This Broken Machine
by Nemi-Dina
Summary: Snow thought they were his own personal lab rats, he thought he could play with their memories, send them to fight to the death, but he was wrong. He had made them stronger and because they were the same tortured souls, they were destined to rise together. Indeed, the sex symbol of Panem and the Girl on Fire were the key to Panem's fall, the star-crossed lovers - Katniss/Finnick
1. Chapter 1

_This world can be so cruel  
She lives her life as a broken tool  
And she believes she's unable to fix this broken machine_

(Katy McAllister,  
_Another empty bottle.)_

* * *

The voices were too loud. The laughters were too raucous and too joyful for her to bear. The blinding white of the neon lights was taking its toll on her, as if it had a mind of its own. Sitting at one of the polished and outrageously bright red tables of the cafeteria required such energy, _too much energy_ and she was exhausted. With shaky hands, she adjusted her black baseball cap over her head, hoping that the little shade it procured would protect her blood-shot eyes from the loathsome light. But much to her regret, the dreadful table displayed the most annoying view she ever experienced. The small luminous shine bothered her vision as soon as she looked down at the red surface and she blinked, multiple times, while her leg started to tremble in disorganized beats. She knew that this was a bad idea, that giving in to her bad habit was a sign of moral sloppiness and weakness. But she was unable to care about any of the consequences. She didn't care if people saw her as "the crazy girl on fire", Prim had left and stolen everything away from her. She was gone and so was life.

"Everdeen, right?" a husky voice called.

In the mist of her thoughts or perhaps lack thereof, she barely heard the question. The muffled sound of his voice reminded her of her deceased sister. It reminded her of the way she called for help, screaming her name. And Katniss had done nothing. _Katniss Everdeen_, seventeen year old and sister of Primrose Everdeen had done nothing.

"Hey, _Girl-on-fire_, you sure you're O.K?" The boy said and dared putting a hand over her shoulder.

Her movements were something she had long lost control of. The moment his fingers brushed her shoulder, she was not surprised to feel her body recoil from his touch, shying away and twisting into a comfortable ball of sorrow.

"Oh, common Everdeed, don't be such a baby." The voice cooed in her ear.

A long time ago, she would have been enraged by such a scornful remark, but she had lost the will and energy to get angry at anyone but herself. So Cato, the leading swimmer of Mockingjay high school, could bully her as much as he wanted. She deserved it anyhow, she was to blame for her sister's death and now she were to pay for it.

"Look up, look at me." He ordered in a harsh condescending voice.

But she would not give him the satisfaction. She would let him pain her physically but not emotionally. Mainly because she had enough on her plate as it was – dealing with her lack of feelings or emotions – and partly because she liked how cold and unaffected she looked in her peers' eyes.

Since she could not bring herself to actual suicide or self-harm, Cato seemed to be an honorable alternative. If he was the one pushing her around and hitting her, she couldn't hate herself for breaking her promise to her mother (to never hurt herself), and she could not blame him for only perpetuating the normal scheme and hierarchy of the hellhole called high school.

"Remember, Everdeen." He whispered at the back of her cold neck.

And she could feel his warm breath on her exposed skin, and she hated it.

"All I ever asked was for you to _look_ at me. To once in your pathetic life, look me in the eye."

The words were uttered very carefully and yet his voice betrayed him. Much to her enjoyment, Cato was not in control. Here she was, weak and indifferent and all he could do was stare down at her. She smiled internally, she knew she had heard right. Surprisingly enough, for the first time in years, Cato had sounded feeble and dejected. But above all, it was the quick and low tremor in his abnormally acute voice that caught her attention.

For the first time in days, she felt something. _She was astonished_. Cato, the cold hearted bully she had hated for so long, sounded sad and thoughtful. In fact, it sounded as if he cared about her, she realized with a gasp and immediately brought a hand to her mouth.

The small gesture was enough to bring the brute back to its usual temperament. His head lowered down to her level and his murderous eyes sent cold shivers down her spine.

"I will never bother you again, you're too boring, too..." He stopped, thinking of the right word.

"Dull." He spat in her face. "You're not worth my time, Everdeen!" He bellowed to the entire cafeteria but his face remained close to hers, facing her like the devil, she thought.

"YOU SUCK." He yelled in her face, but it sounded like a growl, as if she were facing one of those genetically modified beasts.

The tall boy stomped away angrily, enraged by his victim's indifference.

Despite the hundred pairs of eyes staring at her, despite the whisperings and gasps and low chuckles, she had to admit that she was _content_. The bully she'd had to fight since the tenth grade had finally shown his weakness, and though she would have liked him to keep punishing her, she could not deny that relief was washing over her. Yes, Cato was a hindrance, but Cato was also the only person who still addressed her in some way at school, the only one who still forced her to feel connected to the world and to reality. The painful anchor to her sanity, she thought bitterly.

The sound of the bell ringing atrociously throughout the cafeteria and the entire building startled her and she gripped the edge of her table too hard; so much so that her knuckles turned white and the tip of her thumb released a tiny speck of blood. It was the kind of pain that barely left an impression on her mind but as her tongue indulged in the metallic taste, as she sucked her finger in satisfaction, she realized that self-harm was indeed a good way to wipe the hopelessness away.

* * *

The mournful party was a hateful sight. The dark dresses and dark blue suits imprinted a painful image in the back of her mind. If her father was still alive, he could have been there, he would have remained strong for them. But he was gone too, and she had to take his rightful place. She had to keep calm in the front row while her eyes froze in an indifferent state of stupor. The sun, which hung high in the sky, hurt her emotionless eyes and its stifling heat caused her forehead to sweat profusely. The beech trees barely cast enough of their shade over her sister's coffin and the stark humid air added to the claustrophobic feeling of guilty constraint. Had she had the choice, she would have deserted the ceremony, indulged in her denial, but the idea was preposterous and hurtful. She owed it to her sister and her tired mother. She had to stand there and watch the plump principal hold forth before her dead sister.

"Primrose Everdeen, aged only fourteen, was the best student we could have ever hoped for." The tall, white haired principal said.

Somehow, the man managed to be the figure of both authority and sympathy, Katniss realized with bitter lucidity. Doctor Snow was the name. A name she despised as much as she did its owner, mostly because he'd tried to date her mother and partly because, throughout her high school life, he always seemed to have an eye for her. His deep stare always bore that vicious spark, that eerie bit of curiosity which had driven her to hate him. Despite her will to kick the man away from the coffin, she had to look up at him respectfully. In theory, she could not blame him for _the accident,_ he was only the principal, only a teacher; he could have never foreseen what was going to happen. But in actuality, something about his secrecy and hypocrisy bothered her, in fact, his shady persona suited her suspicions just fine. At any rate she was positive of one thing: the bus accident had been no accident, anything but an actual coincidence.

Painfully, she tore her eyes away from the brown coffin and looked the man straight in the eye. Even though she tried, really hard not to loath him, her grey orbs looked daggers. Clumsily, he choked and failed to finish his speech. The constant coughing seemed torturous enough for Katniss to feel a tad bit of sympathy toward the aging man, but never in billions of years would she deem him decent. Grumbling and swearing under his breath, he walked away from the coffin and chose to stand at the far back of the mourning group. Whispers and negative comments rose from the dull looking party and with a quick glance thrown her mother's way, Katniss knew that she had to save the ceremony though she could not save the child. Her mother would burst in tears the moment she would stand so closely to the coffin, she could see it in her tired and blood-shot eyes; in the way her pale lips quivered and buckled under the pressure of her yellowish teeth. And before she knew it, Katniss was standing before her sister's coffin, facing the dull faces.

"Prim." Her voice came out as a weak squeal.

She intended to speak an entire sentence, she intended to say her full name honorably but she had failed. Her throat was too dry and her mind too clouded. There simply were no words to describe the golden soul she had lost. Nothing could make it up to her, nothing could pay homage to the blond haired girl that was her sister.

That was the moment she saw him for the first time, _really saw him_. He wore a dark blue shirt and black denim jeans. His hair was a mess and his sad complexion was a pitiful curtain of white. His tired eyes stood over dark-bluish circles, his emerald green orbs shining with despair as he stared at her. She remembered then that her sister was not the only victim of the bus accident. Mrs Annie Cresta, the teacher in charge of their field trip, had died too. Such a bright and youthful face, Katniss thought, wondering at her ability to focus on anything but Prim.

"Annie." Was all that she could utter as her eyes bore into his.

Gently, carefully, he nodded for her to keep going...

"Annie and Prim were... _priceless_. They could not be bought – and now I know that they never be will be" She said in a harsh and angry voice.

The whispers and gasps coming from the group sounded like an obtrusive noise, which only worsened the growing pounding in her head. She knew they'd be taken aback by her words, but also knew that half of them must have dreamt of this moment. She was only voicing what none of them dared ever whisper. In such a corrupted nation, such a vicious system, she had to speak in those terms. People had to understand that there was nothing normal or acceptable about the elite sitting at the throne. People had to know that the bus accident was questionable. People had to know that something could be done about the shady doings of the leading perverts like Snow. In fact they had to know that, principal Snow and Mockingjay high school were only the tip of the iceberg.

But as she opened her mouth to scream her rebelling thoughts, as she guessed that the boy standing before her was Annie's brother, a warm hand grabbed hers. _His _hand... and _He_ was standing so close to her, intertwining their fingers and preventing her from screaming the unforgivable. He was taking charge of the awful task that was the delivery of the funeral speech to _contain_ her. And already she owed him. _She owed Finnick Odair, the ladies' boy, the man whore._ But despite the hundreds of hurtful names she could spit at his face, she had to admit that there was something mushy and tender about him. So even if she only knew his reputation and despised him deeply, she could not help but be thankful for his soothing presence.

* * *

She tried to remember past events involving Finnick Odair but all of them were quite impersonal. They never involved actual contact between the two of them. They were a series of swimming competitions and a small number of soccer games. She had never wanted to attend them, Prim had dragged her to them, insisting that Katniss had missed too much of her high school life. Sure, she was a poor student who had to maintain – not an excellent but brilliant – record, one that stood out and made her special. She had to work harder than the rest of her fellow, rich students. But archery as her sole extracurricular activity was barely enough. She could do better, much better, if only she could be more _social._ Those used to be Prim's nagging words. And Katniss used to hate them but now she wished she could hear her sister say them just once more.

"Miss Everdeen!"

The harsh voice forced her back into the present and she barely lifted up her head to notice her teacher's furious stare.

"I am going to ask you this question one last time, Katniss. What's a Tsunami and where can it occur?" The middle-aged man asked condescendingly.

"I don't care."

Her words came naturally and smoothly, as if she were a mere robot, producing an automatic and simple answer.

The teacher opened his mouth, ready to yell out his frustration when the door of the classroom opened very suddenly. The entire group of students stood up respectfully as the three peacekeepers entered the quaint and neat room. Mechanically they walked to the front row of desks and one of them pulled out a white scroll which he rolled out, showing a very detailed portrait.

"We are here to collect student n°150890, Katniss Everdeen." The peacekeeper said as he brandished the clear shot in front of the baffled teenagers.

"Well... it's a good thing you came now, I was just about to expel her." The teacher said in a feeble and fearful voice.

Katniss glared at the middle-aged man, slightly worried by the peacekeepers' intervention. The last time a group of them had to collect a student in such a way dated back to her father's time. According to Panem's history books, one teenage girl had dared starting a petition against the annual Hunger Games, it stipulated that the young citizens picked each year at the reaping, were to be more than twenty years old. Her name was Madge and she had been prosecuted for obstruction to the general functioning of Panem's educational system. The Capitol – the leading district – had had her electrocuted. Ever-since then, no one had dared saying anything against any of the rulers.

* * *

Walking along side the peacekeepers throughout the empty hallways felt like walking toward death but Katniss was too numb to feel the least scared. Because she had had to watch her own sister die before her very eyes, nothing seemed to affect her anymore, not even the icy cold whether of Jannuary or the dramatic change in her grades. So, as expected, she could hardly feel anything when the peacekeepers stopped in front of the principal's office.

The door swiftly yielded open, revealing Snow, dressed in a white suit. He stood erect in front of his desk, scratching his beard as he contemplated the falling snowflakes outside the clean glass of the french window.

"Leave her to me."

His voice was very different now that he had come back to his natural habitat, Katniss thought with bitterness.

The three peacekeepers did as told and closed the silvery door behind them. That little detail jolted Katniss out of her numbing haze. Realization hit her like a hard slap. And all of a sudden, she felt too much. Too much angst and sadness as well as an impressive amount of fear. She was alone with a powerful pervert, she thought, alone without no one to witness what the man intended to do with her. And the more she thought of the implications of the present situation, the smaller the office room looked. Now more than ever, she knew the actual meaning of the word: claustrophobia.

"Please miss Everdeen, sit down."

She obeyed and looked about, searching for an escape in case Snow dared touch her. The consequences of her action would have little importance, she thought, as long as they saved her from him, and of course, she would kill herself before the peacekeepers even got a chance to bring her back to him.

"That short eulogy of yours at the graveyard left me quite puzzled, miss Everdeen." Snow said softly, his voice as discreet as the whistling of a snake.

Katniss had to think a moment longer to remember her spontaneous and suicidal words, she had said that Annie and Prim were _priceless,_ that they never would be for sell. A statement that would have sounded confusing elsewhere, but this was _district four_. The city touching the heavenly shore, and ranking as third best district in the country. A region of excellence, a sign of fortune. But most importantly, the capitol's own precious cornucopia. Katniss's second home was where prostitutes and peacekeepers were collected, discrict four's young citizens were destined to be either sold to the army or given over to Panem's most prestigious gambling houses, all located in the capitol. Either way, they were puppets, valued for their physical appearance or their ability to kill.

"It reminded me of the first time you came to Mockinjay high. Your hair was in that delicate side braid which your younger sister always loved to play with." He said with the vicious stare of a predator.

"With all due respect, sir." Katniss started with a sigh, "what does my braid have to do with any of that?"

Doctor Snow turned on his heels, finally facing the grey-eyed teenager.

"Oh, I was merely trying to point out the burning flame, which I believe, was there in your eyes, from the very beginning."

Katniss had to shook her head in confusion. Snow seemed to take such pleasure in the present conversation. It was as if he were relishing in the peacefulness that usually preceded a devastating storm.

"See, Katniss, you really are the girl-on-fire but you don't seem to realize it." He sneered with a repugnant smirk.

"_That_ was a mere accident." Katniss said through greeted teeth.

_He_ was referring to the incident which had brought unwanted attention to her and her family. The one mistake which had caused half the districts in Panem to nickname her "the girl-on-fire". It had happened years before, when Prim was only five years old. On a hot summer night, Katniss, aged nine, had ventured out of her home, out of district twelve's dirty slums. She had strolled to the silent and harmless wire fence which separated her district from the open and unsafe forest. She had squatted down to her knees to listen closely to the light buzzing, but there was none. As expected, the wires were safe to touch and she could sleep under the damaged and hitched up part of the wall of wires. Carefully, she had pulled the tiny flashlight out of her old jeans' back pocket. Something she had stolen from one of the merchants at the Seam. Prim had helped somewhat, she had managed to keep the middle-aged man busy as she spoke. In the meantime, Katniss had grabbed the black item swiftly and tucked it to her belt, under her worn coat.

Trespassing toward the woods was as important as stealing that flashlight. Katniss reminded her self, the idea was to get to the woods to search for her father's well-hidden bows and quivers, she would learn their location by heart and come back later for hunting sessions. Except that in the warm summer night, the moment she stepped foot into the forest, she realized that her plan must have been doomed from the beginning.

That night, merely five yards away from her, appeared a wall of fire, blazing high in the air and blowing a dreadful gust of heat toward her. She wondered how such a deadly fire could have started so quickly, she wondered why she had not noticed it before, but none of her questions could be answered. And she did not have the time or luxury to figure them out, for the waves of golden flames advanced too quickly, converging in the direction of the tiny hole through which she had to pass to reach the safety of her district. In the midst of panic and fear, she dropped her flashlight. She dared not stop for it, she kept running. The giant fire procured more than enough light for her to see where she was headed but when she neared the wire fence, she noticed something particularly disturbing. Progressively, different parts of the fence sparkled against the dark sky, as if each of those parts were coming back to life, as if the fire was causing them to be electrified again. And another, new and more intense amount of fear propelled her forward. She ran for her life, she ran for Prim's and her mother's lives, she ran faster than she ever did before. She reached the fence just in time to sleep under the silent and still harmless wires. And though she could feel a little amount of relief, she did not stop running when she reached the safety of district twelve, not until she neared the closed, peaceful and quiet Seam, from which she watched the flame engulf the feeble fence.

That night, she chose to rush to the closest fire station instead of her home. She screamed in the deceivingly peaceful night, alerting the entire district against the nearby and advancing danger.

In doing so, she had saved district twelve, and rightfully, became "the girl-on-fire". Had it not been for her warning screams, the fire would have devoured the entire region.

"How humble of you, miss Everdeen." Snow said mockingly. "Any other person, in their right mind, would have accepted such praise and fame, don't you think?"

It took a little while for Katniss to be jolted back to the present. The itching smoke and the stifling heat of the fire were hard to forget. She was only nine years old back then, she had wished only to find the tools that would save her family from starvation. She had never wanted to be the hero.

But the capitol and several of the richer districts had decided otherwise. She had had to go on interviews, had had to pretend and lie about her little escape to the forest. She had had to create a whole other story. By the time she turned eighteen, she had long become a citizen of district four, a reward for her bravery. She and her family had not become exactly rich, but they definitely were better off than in twelve, where they would have most probably starved to death.

"I don't know. I was just having a bad time getting sleep, that's all. The rest was all but a coincidence." She said dejectedly.

"Well, coincidence or not," Snow stated with a devious stare, "you are now being summoned thanks to that spontaneous courage of yours. Thanks to those particular words uttered at your sister's funerals, actually."

"What do _they_ want from me?" Katniss asked harshly, Snow's little game of suspense was making her stomach churn, it was high time _they_ cut to the chase.

_They_ obviously meant the capitol and despite the murderous glance she dared throw his way, Snow smiled in satisfaction.

"Miss Everdeen, you have been chosen to participate in the century's most anticipated game. The third edition of the Hunger Games' Quarter Quell. An international competition opposing the world's four remaining continents."

* * *

**_Author's note_ → As you've probably guessed, this is a twisted version of the Hunger Games. I always thought that the story could be even better if only there was some mention of the rest of the world. And I craved some Finnick / Katniss shipping, so I started writing. I liked Cato very much too, and would have much rather seen him survive over Peeta. So he will be a big part of this story too. Last but not least, Johanna will be prominent as well, because she must be the most original as well as the craziest character in the history of the Hunger Games.**

**Oh and by the way, yes, for fictional reasons, Annie is not Finnick's fiancée, she's his sister.**

**I hope you enjoyed this first chapter and please,  
please, please, leave some reviews, at least to let me know if this is a lost cause.**

**Here is the old summary of this story, it'll help you better understand the twist of my plot:**

What if Katniss had become the Girl-on-fire much earlier? What if she had lived half her life in district four? What if Annie Cresta was in fact, Finnick's sister? What if the reaping was not really "random", what if the capitol simply chose who they wanted to throw in the arena? And most importantly, what if the Hunger Games became an international competition?


	2. Chapter 2

_I love the way that you don't care  
You just move along as if there's nothin' to be scared of  
And I love the way you flip your hair  
Like nothing's wrong to be so confident  
Damn it just ain't fair no  
_(Katy Mc Allister – _Wanna Believe_)

* * *

She felt light and dizzy and she knew that she was wandering somewhere in limbo. There were no other words to describe the otherworldly location. She wished she could pin point more precisely the place where she stood but she could not. Strangely enough, that mere flaw was acceptable, enjoyable even. She knew that _this_ was neither reality nor her own subconscious, that she was invading someone else's intimacy, but she had to indulge in the peculiar dream. For once, she was far, _far away_ and it felt good to get rid of it all, to get rid of reality and lucidity, to forget Panem and its tragedies.

She looked up and marveled at the glistening sea water. In that beautiful summer night, the dark moving surface stretched as far as the eye could see, but up to the subtle line which formed the horizon, the grand ocean and the bright moon came together in a beautiful game of reflections. Be it hallucinations or illusions, well, what did it matter? She wondered. It did not need any explanation, she thought. The only thing that mattered was that she felt peaceful again, _foreignly_ peaceful actually. The sensation was similar to the experience of stealing rightfully, but the result was of another realm, the incredible serenity it procured was indescribable. It was a soothing sensation which was not hers to claim and yet there she was, basking in it.

Where waves moved discreetly and restlessly, the bright and yet lifeless moon shone vigorously, illuminating the rest of the peaceful flow of water as well as the pale white sand. Unfortunately, as if she needed to be reminded of the artificiality of the restful serenity she had craved, a dreadful trident appeared suddenly. It glided right over her head and came to a stop only once it hit the tender, youthful being standing next to her. He fell to his knees, with his two hands caressing the sharp silver weapon driven through his lung. And she could do nothing but stare. She felt too young, too fragile and too shocked. She was powerless and helpless in that state of stupor she knew too well. Though he looked familiar, she failed to recognize the dying man, whose face shone with love and affection. And as the dream collapsed in a frenzy of blurs and murmurs of the fading ocean, she realized she knew his eyes, his mesmerizing green orbs.

"Wake the fuck up!"

The muffled voice sounded like a distant encrypted signal.

"Everdeen!" Another deeper voice called.

Slowly, progressively, the sounds grew louder and clearer.

"Hell, it was high time that idiot woke up!" A female voice complained, dripping with a sort of illy-buried rage.

"What's – happening." Katniss managed to choke out. "Where – am I?"

She tried to open her eyes but the blinding white light stung so much that she wondered if its artificial rays were actual flames blowing right into her retinas.

"Always the same questions." Another angry voice said.

This time she recognized its owner though she could not see his face.

"Cato?" She called incredulously.

"No, Santa Claus." He answered with a dry and bitter chuckle.

"Shut up, Cato. She's probably the one with the strongest dose of drugs implanted in her system." A velvet voice said defensively.

"Finnick Odair?" Katniss gasped with surprise and confusion.

"Oh, we're all here sweetheart." A broken voice sang.

It sounded like Haymitch's, the poor wreck from district twelve, the lone survivor in victors' village. The ridiculed man who appeared either high or drunk at any and every public event.

"Yeah, we're all here, ready to be shipped to our spectacular and live broadcast death!" The raging female voice started again. "All of this because, well, fucking Snow apparently had a revolutionary idea!"

This time, she really had to open her eyes and witness the other wreck of a winner which she had heard so much about, if she remembered well, her name was Johanna Mason. Begrudgingly, Katniss forced her eyelids open. First, everything looked white and saturated but after a little while, shapes started to form, rectangular objects and curving lines until finally, she could make out – a still blurry but perceptible – neat ward.

"We're in a hospital?" Katniss wondered out loud.

"No, more like a lab, stupid." Cato's voice reverberated throughout the large room.

She tried to move but her limbs were too numb and heavy.

"Ignore him" Finnick's reassuring voice whispered near by. "Just rest, Katniss."

Though speaking was possible, it required a tiresome amount of energy and she knew her words came out in an abnormal chopped and slow rhythm. The rest of the people present in that room seemed to find speech easier, insults and cuss words especially, but none of them could move away from the cold white sheets. With much effort, she managed to crane her neck toward the one voice she thought worthy of her attention, facing the fear struck face of its owner with apprehensive wonder. Ever since she had moved to four, the young man had seemed to be no more than an image, a false ideal which she despised fiercely. But then both their sisters died and that mesmerizing scope of sadness and desperation which she witnessed in his sea-green eyes changed _everything._ To her, from that moment on, he had stopped being the Capitol's prostitute. He was simply Finn, the mourning brother. Still, somewhere in the back of her mind, a persistent voice urged her to stay away from the damaged toy; mostly because he always seemed to find an easy way to make his disgusting profession appear casual and fun, and partly because she knew that, like all of the other Hunger Games survivors, he must have figured some dark way to keep breathing. If it were not alcohol or drugs it was something else, she thought, something painful enough to distract him from the harsh reality.

His beautifully and naturally shaped eyebrows furrowed as she stared at him, but he did not say anything. He remained peaceful, lying on his back with his head turned Katniss's way, his chest rising harmoniously as he breathed.

"You were there." She whispered in a hoarse voice.

His eyes shone with an unfathomable twinkle the moment the three words left her mouth and she sighed heavily as the disconcerting previous events came back to her in the shape of distinct and clear-cut memories.

* * *

Snow had just mentioned the third Quarter Quell, but that was not the trigger which had pushed her over the edge. She had long guessed that she was like a loaded gun, somewhere deep within, she knew that she would remain cold and unaffected only until a certain point. And the day that she would eventually fire had come. Snow was not only informing her about her imminent and public death, he was also telling her about the Capitol's never-ending cruelty. A cruelty which had escalated to a whole new level. The key word was "international", which meant that kids from all over the world would be a thrown in a giant arena to fight to death. The thought of such a monstrous scenario made her stomach churn, jolted her out of her mourning phase and within the blink of an eye, she had gone off on the white haired sadist. She had jumped up like a mad cougar, clawing at his neck with an intensity she never knew she were capable of. She was not simply angry or resentful, she was blind. She could see nothing but rage and hatred, there was no room for other feelings or emotions. Not once did she consider any misgivings or regretful consequences. If anything, she thought, the capitol and district four's rulers would be happy, they'd succeeded eventually, they had turned her into a career, a killing machine. And the one thing urging on her in that moment was the thirsting desire to end Snow's life.

With years of paper work and chemical experiments, Snow had had little to no time for sports or healthy stretching sessions, let alone self defense exercises. He realized with stupor that Katniss Everdeen, only aged seventeen, really was capable of murdering him.

"Help." He choked out as her thin and yet strong hands clasped his neck.

The peacekeepers who had remained on the look out from the other side of the door, barged in, alerted _not_ by Snow's barely perceptible cry but by the commotion created by Katniss's violent movements. In the midst of her raging folly she had not heard the vase full of white roses breaking or the white painted iron desk trembling violently. All that mattered to her was the formal predator which had become _her_ own personal prey. And as his eyes grew a worrisome blood-shot color, she wished she could watch his soul fly out of his disgusting body. But the three peacekeepers were faster and stronger than she ever deemed them possible. Brutally, they pushed her away from him, causing her to be smashed against the cold french window. The thin and refined material shattered easily under Katniss's weight, the bigger pieces of glass grazed her shoulder and upper-arm but the smaller, subtle fragments appeared to be the worse threat. They cut through her skin and remained painfully buried into the external layer of her epidermis, stinging like burning needles.

"Take her to the school nurse!" Snow exclaimed between two coughs, holding a blood-stained handkerchief to his mouth. "And keep an eye on her."

Katniss had walked out ahead of the three peacekeepers but never tried in any way to escape. She knew that if Snow wanted her dead or raped, he would have gone differently about the current situation. Besides, now that she had been chosen as tribute, she was positive that there would be serious consequences for Snow himself were she to die before she even stepped foot in the arena, such a thing would compromise the Capitol's plans and much to her pleasure, Snow was only one of the little sub-wolves. There were _other_, more important people sitting at the throne and the pervert she had just attempted to kill was most definitely scared of them too.

Because it was already two o'clock in the afternoon, the sickroom was empty and the school nurse had already left. Though district four was considered a "rich district", its schools still weren't as good as the Capitol's, they couldn't afford to have medical staff present at all times. Nonchalantly, Katniss walked to the stretcher pushed against the wall and lied down on the comfortable leathered surface.

"Looks like you're going to have to take care of yourself the way big girls do, Everdeen." One of the peacekeepers said slyly.

She recognized perversion and mockery in his voice and had to bit her tongue to hold in the series of cuss words that threatened to spill out of her mouth like vomit. She thought she had better ignore their ignominious stares and focus on the basic medical equipment which the modest sickroom had to offer. Painfully, she tore away from the stretcher and stomped toward the numerous shelves lining the opposite wall. She gulped as she looked attentively at all the different sorts of drugs, from pills to powders, to bottles of spray medicines. She knew about the basic things she needed to clean and bandage her wound but she was unable to care for her own suffering body. She couldn't help the pathetic feeling of worthlessness that came with every reminder of her dead sister and at the moment, the maze of remedies was a painful admonition. The whole range of drugs was a part of her sister's persona.

"Need some help, Everdeen?" Asked a seductive voice.

She turned around with a start only to discover the most unexpected person standing before her.

"Finnick Odair?" She wondered out loud.

"Why yes, in flesh and bone." He answered with a brilliant grin. "And for your own enjoyment." He added with an equivocal lop-sided smile.

She simply glared at him, unsure of what to say or think.

"Why don't you let me help you with that mean wound, girl-on-fire." He suggested and gestured for her to sit down on the stretcher.

* * *

She hated herself for thinking the way she did but it was undeniable. Finnick Odair was gifted. So much so that she dared comparing him to her family. Gentle and meticulous, he'd hardly touched her weakened body when he'd examined her wounds. His soft fingertips had only grazed her exposed skin, leaving the soothing caresses she could have sworn came from a light feather. Just like Prim's soft and feeble touch.

"Looks like the little fragments are tucked into your skin down from your elbow and up to your shoulder. I could pull them out, one by one with the pliers but..."

His voice was calm and steady, like her mother's whenever she had to treat the most injured patients down at the medical center, in the emergency ward. His eyes were fixed on her covered shoulder, intense and thoughtful, but they betrayed a certain amount of skepticism.

"Is something wrong?" Katniss asked warily.

"No. I just think that removing your two shirts would be better, then I could get you rid of the rest of the fragments stuck to your shoulder and from the looks of it, to a part of your back too."

There was absolutely nothing in his countenance that betrayed the least misplaced desire, or malevolent intention. If anything he was nothing shorter than caring and she felt weak under his close scrutiny.

"Can we at least draw the white curtain so that the peacekeepers don't get to see any of it?" She whispered carefully and glanced furtively at the cold faced men.

Finnick nodded with a smile and pulled at the thin white piece of fabric. He then resumed his position and stood facing her, waiting for her to remove a part of her clothes. She had to sigh when their eyes met again. At the opposite end of her expectations, she once again failed to perceive any malignity or nastiness in his neutral stare. Looking down at the cotton fabric which fell loosely over her shoulders and chest, she forced her hands to move upward, reaching for the collar of the thick shirt. Swiftly, she pulled at it and passed her garments over her head, tossing them aside in a nervous gesture. She brought her arms back closer to her exposed skin in an attempt to cover as much as she could of her upper body and inhaled deeply. Fortunately, she was wearing her favorite bras, the most expensive underwear she ever had to buy but surely the best she ever got. They were thick and black bras which covered and molded her breasts perfectly, causing her to feel less uncomfortable. Anxiously, she looked up at the green-eyed young man, dreading his flirtatious look but he was already facing the neat shelves, gathering alcohol and cotton balls. Putting on light plastic gloves and dripping the disinfecting liquid into the mushy cotton, he turned on his heels and stepped closer, keeping his head low.

"This is going to sting a little." He warned though he knew perfectly well that such information was already obvious to her.

She grimaced when, ever so gently, he started to pat her bruised skin. Each single touch was painful but Finnick was soft and swift enough to finish the job sooner than she deemed it possible. Once she were done with the burning sensation of alcohol applied to her cuts, she had to brace herself for the plucking of the glass fragments. She watched him nonchalantly as he grabbed the pliers and walked gracefully round the stretcher.

She had to repress a sigh when she realized he would stand behind her for the time necessary to pull out the fragments stuck to her back. In that moment, she wished she could see his face and his piercing eyes just to make sure that he were not taking advantage of the situation; but as she felt the pliers drag the tiny pieces out of her injured skin, she realized with remorseful reasonableness that such thoughts were ridiculous. Finnick Odair was certainly a manwhore but he was no rapist and nor was he evil. He had all the women he wanted and did not need _her_ to be satisfied. Clearly, this was only an extension of his mournful sympathy. First he had showed his compassionate support at the funerals and now had only been considerate and kind enough to take care of her wounds. Not to mention that he had paid no attention whatsoever to her breasts and that her wariness and distrust were mere projections of her own growing paranoia.

"And we're almost done." His cheerful voice sang with a chuckle.

She looked down at her wounds and then watched his slender and yet strong hands tie a long bandage around her upper arm. He didn't even need to ask whether he were applying enough pressure when he flattened the last piece of band-aid over her shoulder, he knew he were perfectly gentle as well as perfectly firm, and she hated it. She hated that despite Annie's death, he was still good at something. She hated that she had turned pathetic, that ever since Prim's death, she had lost faith in any of her capacities. But above all, she hated that she felt jealous. She longed for Finnick's ability to build deceiving walls around him, she coveted his strength and skill in the art of acting and hiding the hurtful truth. Desperately, she wished she could be as unaffected as he seemed to be.

"Mr. Odair, I thought we'd agreed on a specific schedule." The poisonous voice of Snow echoed throughout the small room.

With a fearful start, Katniss jumped off of the stretcher and grabbed her shirts. Hurriedly, she pulled the first and thinner one over her head and turned around to face a composed Finnick.

"You were supposed to be in the first cab back to the Justice Building." Snow said with a forced and dreary chuckle as he pushed the thin curtain aside.

"I thought I'd stop by to see you first" Finnick said with a joyless and polite smile.

"Lying really doesn't suit you, mr. Odair. Why would you want to bring such inconveniences to our current professional alliance?" Snow's voice ringed out like an impending and fateful condemnation.

"I needed to see her before the experiments." Finnick said matter-of-factly.

Katniss felt her heart racing through her chest as she slipped on her other, warmer and thicker cotton shirt. Once her fingers brushed her long bangs and pushed them behind her ears, she looked up to face the white cladded man.

"Oh, but you have done more than that, haven't you, Mr. Odair?" Snow said with a disconcerting grin.

His bulging eyes scanned her body from head to toe and she felt violated under his pervasive and salacious visual examination. She had to blink multiple times as her brain rattled with the man's subtle words. Were Snow and Finnick talking about her? She wondered. Was Finnick already aware of the Quarter Quell and the not so random reaping?

"What difference does such a tiny detail make?" Finnick said through gritted teeth but still managed to smile through the whole situation.

"Oh, but mister Odair, isn't the devil in the tiniest details?"

The smiling victor shrugged with a light chuckle, disregarding Snow's puns and disturbing subtlety.

"So are we going to the Justice Building altogether?" His voice dripped with false cheerfulness and deep sarcasm.

"No, you will be transported to Panem Laboratory where you'll undergo your first cerebral connexion experiment." Snow said with a lustful smirk.

"What experiment?" Katniss cried out.

"The first stage of your entrance into the world of games, miss Everdeen." Snow explained with a sly and vicious stare.

"What is he talking about?" She turned toward the young and familiar face for help but realized she might have been in a better condition than a once playful Finnick Odair.

His sad complexion had become a pale facade which betrayed only trauma and turmoil, his lips remained frozen in a tense and straight line, as if he were holding in a terrified cry. And his once bright and dreamy eyes had darkened to a dull and lifeless green, leaving only a semblance of clarity or lucidity.

Two of the peacekeepers rushed to his sides, pulling harshly at his arms, and dragging him out of the room as if he were a mere helpless child. Katniss watched dumbly as Finnick let the harsh men lead him away from her. And when he glanced up at her, she felt her heart ache at the sight of such a weakened and extinct soul. All of a sudden, he had become an empty and hollow shell crumbling before her very eyes. The disturbing image of an instinct Finick was so painful to her troubled and blood-shot eyes that she sprang up with renewed care and interest.

"Don't hurt him!" She yelled and ran after them. "Please, don't!" She begged and tried to pry his weakened body away from them.

But everything was under Snow's meticulous control and as soon as her arms encircled Finnick's waist, a bittersweet stinging sensation in the back of her neck prevented her from screaming or speaking. Releasing a liquid she knew not, the syringe pushed against her skin and lulled her into a heavy and numbing sleep.

* * *

"So you remember." Finnick said with a light chuckle.

"I think, I do, yes." Katniss said in a haze.

"After the peacekeepers injected you with the soporific drug, they put a black bag over my head and flew us to – what I guess is – Panem's laboratory. But this must have happened days ago, they must have tried all sorts of experiments on us, and I've no idea what day is today." He said with a frown.

"Today is the day your grand-ma died, pretty boy." Cato's voice sang throughout the large room.

"Go to hell." Finnick said calmly.

"I think he's saying the truth, Finn." Johanna's angry voice ringed out louder than Cato's.

"Hell, don't just say it like that, poor boy is goin' to lose his mind." Haymitch's oddly sober voice complained.

"What the hell are you all talking about?" Katniss cried out and her dry throat ached even more as she spoke. "Is Finnick's grand-mother really dead?"

"She's not really his grand-ma but yeah, she's dead." Cato clarified with a serious sigh.

"Mags is safe and sound, I'm sure of it. She's somewhere in four, swimming in the beach." Finnick said and let out a nervous laugh.

"Well, _I_ was there, man whore! And _I_ saw her die." Cato felt the need to clear up the conversation. "She is dead. DEAD. Understand?" He added in a very condescending voice.

"Shut the fuck up! I'll rip your head off as soon as I get off this bed! I hope you burn in hell! I will be glad to kill you once we're in the arena because let's face it, you're here for a reason." Finnick's voice had turned into a painful howl, as if he were a wounded animal crying for help.

Katniss failed to breath normally as she watched his body convulse. He looked like a mad man who had just gone off his pills. His eyes appeared to be bigger than they really were, and his face lost all its charm, leaving only hatred and rage over its features. His muscles contracted and she could see the veins stand out as he tried to stand up but failed miserably.

"Sorry Odair, but she really is dead." Cato's voice sounded awfully serious.

Katniss had to sigh sadly when she saw the sea-green eyes turn dull the way they did in the sickroom after Snow told them about their upcoming fate. She wished she could do something to bring the beautiful green orbs back to life but she also knew and understood the situation too well. And she was positive that nothing could be done, she was dejectedly certain that Finnick Odair simply had to taste the depressing stage of mourning one more time.

"Quiet down young people, quite down." A subtle voice sneered and every head turned in the direction of the entrance to the ward.

Snow himself walked in. He was wearing a long white smock which had a strange logo stamped on its pockets. It was in the shape of a red snake, one that squirmed and formed a circle as it ate its own tail. Matching that logo was a bright golden ring in the man's index finger, its red sapphire glistened under the neon lights and Katniss had to squint at it when the man stopped in front of her bed.

"I am pleased to announce to you all that the experiments went perfectly well. For practical reasons, the laboratory chose to conduct the cerebral connexion operations in pairs, uniting two participants from two different districts. I will hereby announce the series of couples which now share a considerable amount of intimate memories: Johanna Mason and Cato Blackwell, Haymitch Abernathy and Wiress Aura, Finnick Odair and Katniss Everdeen..."

Katniss's mind drifted off to another realm when Snow mentioned hers and Finnick's names. She could not bring herself to listen to the rest of the duos of participants because of the dream. The dream that she had had when she was unconscious was coming back to haunt her. She remembered the glistening ocean and the shining moon as if she had lived that moment, as if it were a part of her life and if Snow were saying the truth, the peculiar and lively dream had been an actual memory. But most importantly, it was one that was not hers to have. The feeling of foreignness made sense all of a sudden, and she did not need any confirmation or information from Finnick to understand that the green-eyed man dying in the nightmare must have been Finnick's deceased father.

She wanted to call out to him, tell Finnick that she was sorry and that she had once lost a father too, but they were all being separated. Numerous peacekeepers had barged in the large room, dragging the hospital beds out and toward the depressing white halls.

* * *

When she woke up again, she found herself lying on a soft and comfortably warm bed. She sat up straight, looking around in a frenzy. She was scared of what the capitol had done to her the past days or weeks. And speaking of time, she thought, how long had she been asleep and when was the last time she felt healthily conscious? Fear pressed down on her, causing her breathing and heart rate to go nuts and she had to lie back down on the cosy bed. Examining the detailed decorations and furniture in the room, she failed to recognize the luxury that closed in on her like a stifling trap. Surely, she was not in district four and nor was she in the Capitol – which she had already visited in the past. She were somewhere else entirely and the unknown appeared to be one of the worst predicaments she ever had to experience. Carefully and quietly, she crawled away from the velvety king sized bed and tip toed to the large mahogany door which – she realized with bitter anxiety – lead to an unknown location but lead to the outside nonetheless.

Slowly, she brought a shaky hand to the golden knob and waited silently. She knew not what she dreaded and why she dreaded it but she had the feeling that something or someone was waiting for her on the other side of the door. And as she leaned closer to the wall, attentive to the smallest sounds, she heard footsteps coming her way. They were slow and irregular, resembling the wandering of a living-dead and a cold shiver ran down her spine. Summoning the courage to face whoever was coming to her room, she was about to pull the massive door open when the mahogany surface moved away on its own and she realized with uneasiness that the person was about to come inside. She stepped backwards with a start and held in a breath. She was mistrusting her own self in the panic brought by the starkness of the moment. She dreaded the stranger on the other side of the door and the second he would, eventually, step inside and face her, she thought she better have to be ready to fight.

But she had thought wrong. The sun kissed face and sea-green eyes which appeared in the door frame soothed her nerves and calmed the pounding in her heart, she even let out the heavy breath she forgot she was repressing. Finnick Odair, of all people, had come to her room. And surprisingly enough, neither she nor he wanted to speak. They remained serene and silent as they stood on either side of the frame. They felt mutual relief flowing between them as well as a certain amount of consoling safety; and as they indulged in each other's simple presence, they stared warmly at each other. Somehow both of them knew why they needed not utter a single sound, and both of them felt it was only natural that they remain peaceful and silent. Such stillness and tranquility felt too good to be spoiled by talking or moving, and as Katniss recognized the tenderness and unselfishness which she had witnessed before in his tired eyes, she smiled a shy and yet liberating smile. And he did more than return the gesture, he gifted her with a beaming grin that she had hardly ever seen before. It was an _illuminating_ grin, the kind that children sent your way with such innocence and warmth and the secret of which only _they_ seemed to know.

* * *

**I am not very happy about this chapter, I wish I could have done better. Thank you so much for the reviews, it made me feel motivated enough to write more. If you have any questions, please, feel free to ask. I know these first two chapters may seem mysterious and confusing, but I swear that as the story evolves you'll get to see and understand more.**

**Thank you again for your support. And until the next update, please review again, maybe?**

**Ps: Just one last thing, I FREAKING LOVE SAM CLAFLIN AS FINNICK, he's the perfect actor for the role! Do you agree? Oh, my, he's so haaaaandsome. Catching Fire would not have been the same without him... or rather without both Finnick and Sam Claflin. Ok I'll stop rambling... until the next chapter fellow Finniss Fans ;) Take care.**


	3. Chapter 3

_No one at my shoulder bringing me fears  
Got no clouds up above me bringing me tears  
Got nothing to tell you, I've got nothing much to say  
Only I'm glad to be here with you  
(_Patty Griffin,_ Heavenly Day)_

* * *

"For this year's games, three children and two victors will be picked in each district." Seneca Crane's voice echoed through the television's large speakers.

Groans and cuss words and gasps erupted throughout the spacious living-room.

"In order to bend the odds in our favor, the threesomes shall be composed of two boys and one girl." Seneca resumed.

"That is so misogynistic." Johanna spat with the rage that had become her most prominent character trait.

"Shut up." Cato's voice sounded bitter and drained.

"To make this year's Quarter Quell as exceptional as it should be, the lack of victors in certain districts shall be made up for thanks to the participation of local public figures."

A cacophony of angry voices drowned Seneca's speech and Katniss craned her to neck to take in the total amount of victors and tributes present in the 100 feet square cream-themed living-room. She counted them, roughly, and came to a total of sixty people. Very few of them she could name, and even fewer of them she remembered ever seeing on TV. She was relieved to see that Finnick had not moved from his spot on the couch, so close to her that their knees and shoulders touched. Normally she would have been disconcerted or bothered by the close proximity but given the circumstances, she was pleased to feel his warmth. After all, he was the only acquaintance from district four, or at least the only one worth considering. Cato, the other acquaintance from four, was no more than an irritating hindrance.

Annoyed by the loud mumbling of the rest of the tributes and victors, she moved uneasily so as to sit cross-legged on the beige colored leather couch. Finnick, who leaned further onto the back of the couch nonchalantly, folded his arms and glanced at her with a slight smile. Half her leg rested on his and much to her relief, he did not seem to mind. His face looked better, healthier; his eyes seemed to be more alert and his three days beard suggested that he was feeling comfortably lazy and laid-back enough not to care about his appearance. Instantly, she realized that she preferred that plain and simple version of him to the flirty and ludicrous womanizer joke of a public image. This new and easy side of him compelled her to change her opinion, and she could not help but feel sympathetic. In fact, she thought that the two of them might even become friends. Too proud to admit such a thing though, she lowered her head and looked down at her hands, meaning to avoid his friendly gaze.

She remained silent and indifferent for a long time. She still felt numb and dizzy, as if she had just gone through a blizzard in the forest and her brain was slowly coming back to life.

When she looked up again, she realized that the crowded room had fell into a stark silence and standing proudly in front of the gathered victors and future tributes was a dark-cladded women. Her features were sharp and thin, giving her a stern and severe look. Surely that women did not smile very often, Katniss thought and winced when their eyes met. Somehow, her cold and confident stare was practically as threatening as Snow's but unlike the perverted principal, that women seemed to know better and to be a much more sophisticated hypocrite.

"Attention tributes." She said and raised her hand in a show of assurance. "My name is Coin, as many of you know, I am district thirteen's vice president and this," She explained with a bow of her arm. "is our district's best hotel."

Katniss found that such a revelation was unreal. It was hard to believe that she had spent the lat few days shut away in a luxurious hotel which was located in a place deemed inexistent.

"The citizens of thirteen and I" Coin resumed. "will be assisting you in your battle against the opposing teams this year."

Several murmurs and complaints disrupted her speech but she quickly managed to impose silence again. Such an easy thing to do when an army of peacekeepers is there to back you up, roaming dutifully everywhere in the building, Katniss thought bitterly. But then there was also the troubling fact that thirteen was supposed to be "inexistent", that it had been obliterated a long time ago. In other circumstances, Katniss would have felt surprised or astonished even, but she were now positive that all of Panem's politicians were lying perverts given unlimited power over the media and the public's general opinion.

"As an independent and free district, we will do everything in our power to make you the winners. This year's games are going to be far different from any of the previous ones. You will be a team. You will fight and survive alongside each other."

Katniss scowled as Coin held forth as if she considered herself to be the smartest person to ever walk the earth. Annoyed, the young Everdeen chose not to listen to all the details, she was tired and irritated so she hardly managed to pay enough attention to the major points, let alone extra – oftentimes also useless – information. What mattered was that she and the other tributes were to be ushered to the Capitol the following day. There would be no reaping. The districts would learn which of their fellow citizens had been chosen when Caesar Flickerman welcomes the new tributes on stage. It would be a grandiose surprise, something that never happened before, a revolutionary introduction to the Games. But to Katniss, it all equalled insanity, hysteria in its brightest form.

* * *

Hours flew by, an entire day and night actually, and Katniss found herself sitting inside an impressive hovercraft, on her way to the Capitol. As they approached the far-off and rich city, dangerous ideas started to form in the back of her mind. Suicidal plans and ludicrous hopes which were likely to end up in expected failure but for some reason, her mind easily disregarded such consequences, deeming them worthy of a greater end. An uprising to be more precise. If only people were as desperate as she was, then they would rebel and either succeed heroically or die with dignity. What was life if it only consisted of starvation and painful survival? She wondered. Well, it simply was not worth living, she decided with a frown.

"What are you thinking about, girl-on-fire?" A playful voice asked gently.

"Things." She answered flatly.

Finnick Odair slumped deeper into his seat and titled his head to the side as he examined the seventeen year-old tribute.

"Things." He repeated with a light chuckle. "Mind to elaborate a little?" He added with a beaming smile.

"Why do you care?" She asked dejectedly.

"Well this journey to the Capitol is pretty boring, don't you think? So we might as well chatter to kill some time." He said nonchalantly.

She had to sigh a long and heavy sigh. She knew she was being unfairly cold and resentful toward him but then she had always had difficulties dealing with her anger and sternness.

"I agree, but I suggest you try thinking for a little while. It can only be good for your brain and it should allow me the peace of mind that I need and want." She said matter-of-factly but there wasn't any aggressive or offensive tone to her voice.

"Well just remember this." An undeterred Finnick answered with a casual smirk. "Thinking too much can be quite deadly, especially in the Games."

Her head snapped in his direction and she wished she could ask him the billion questions going through her brain. Unfortunately, neither of them could afford to speak freely and the serious look in his sea-green eyes convinced her to forget about the delirious thoughts she had been pondering.

* * *

Everything had fell into place faster than she ever thought possible. The costumes, the stylists, the make-up artists and the pre-written answers and ludicrous jokes they were to shower the audience with. It were all meticulously planned and she felt alienated among the sixty other tributes.

A dolly woman with the face of a mouse stood in front of her with an unnatural grin stretching her inhuman features.

"I believe red and orange tones would look great on you and Cinna, your stylist, agrees perfectly. Since your silken gown is a shimmery red, I was thinking of some bright red eyeshadow over your eyes as well as some tiny specks of gold at the end of your lashes, that would be fan-tas-tic!" She spoke frantically as if each single second were worth millions and Katniss felt a growing headache eat away at her nerves.

"Then I could add some really bright earth-like color to your cheeks, just to smooth your uneven and tanned skin. The people of the capitol tend to favor a fair and white complexion, darling, so I think that such a make-up style can only be beneficial." She chirped enthusiastically and joined her hands together in a childish and discreet applause.

Without warning, Katniss's hands clapsed the woman's neck and pulled her forward. With the penetrating stare of a predator, the angered tribute squeezed harder at the frail neck, causing the defenseless make-up artist to go mute.

"I am to die within the next few weeks so I am in no mood for the Capitol's pathetic beauty standards." Katniss voice purred like the subtle growl of a hungry and hunting cougar.

The petrified mouse-like face stared at her in horror and a few tears slid down the thick layer of white foundation deposited on her already pale skin.

"I already feel nuts because of all the changes I had to go through for this stupid interview so I am going to list my wishes now, but I am going to that only once so you had better listen carefully." The seventeen year old tribute said with underlying hatred.

"You are going to do as I say." She added and the make-up artist thought she witnessed a dangerous flicker in Katniss's hypnotizing eyes.

Much to the mouse-like woman's displeasure, no one seemed to notice the incident. If anything, everyone around them were too busy getting ready for the show and the tributes who were not going through a make up session, were chatting in circles, oblivious to the rest of the hustle and chaotic last minute arrangements which currently shook Caesar Flickerman's backstage area.

"I want the most _natural_ make-up you could ever perform on me. The only part of my face which will be wearing a brighter color will be my lips. I want them red." Katniss whispered threateningly and gifted the choking woman with a disturbing smirk. "In fact," she added wistfully. "I want them to be red as blood. Got it?"

The poor woman coughed and collapsed into Katniss's arms, spitting and gasping for air. Katniss smiled reassuringly as several people looked at them curiously.

"Just a little choke, she's going to be all right." She cooed and held the short woman in place. Then, she looked down at her and smiled. "Remember, honey, _red as blood._" She warned in a deceivingly warm and comforting hum while her arms wrapped around the petite body.

* * *

Katniss Everdeen glared at the red-haired host confidently as she stood far away behind Thresh, the last tribute from district eleven to enter the stage. From the wing in the backstage area, she watched him and the other two tributes and two victors from eleven. Caesar Flickerman, the most unnaturally casual person she ever had to meet, had suggested that each of the districts would be presented as a team throughout the interviews. She were to wait patiently with the drunkard from twelve's Victors' village. What was his name again? She wondered and turned around to take a look at the human wreck. His dirty blond hair fell in untamed oily locks over his eyes, and because of the alcohol he had gulped down the last hour or so, his face was of a nasty pig-like pink color.

Another blond haired male crouched down to the wreck's level.

"Haymitch, you need to get up, buddy." The boy said kindly.

Katniss had recognized him earlier in the day, he was the baker's son, he had even thrown bread her way once before. But apart from these few details, she knew practically nothing about him, yet she were to be put in a giant arena alongside him and they would have to work out as a team. Another male came strutting and she remembered his face but she still could not put a name on it. He looked like a man though she knew he must have been eighteen at most. His skin was of the same color as hers and his eyes were of a dark, mystifying grey. When he bent down to help Baker boy pull the human wreck from the shiny tiled floor, she realized with a twinge that his posture and build reminded her of her father. A young miner, undoubtedly, she assumed as she watched his muscles flex through his tight black shirt.

"Why don't you come help, Everdeen?" He spat at her, his grey orbs burning with fury.

She recognized the sort of anger and desperation she used to know so well. She guessed that he must have been one of the less obedient miners, maybe, possibly, he were a hunter too, like her father. At any rates, she knew he must have been familiar with the Hob and the wrong side of the tracks in district twelve.

Before she could even move in the direction of the boys though, a graceful black-haired girl with tan skin and deep brown eyes rushed to Haymitch, pulling him up and pushing him Katniss's way. The drunken victor held on to Katniss's shoulder as if his life depended on it and she had to wince because of the overwhelming stench of liquor.

"You're about to be called in. Just try not to let go of him." The brown-eyed girl said smoothly and nodded toward the center stage.

Katniss failed to recognize the girl but knew, unquestionably, that she were one of the Hob merchants' kids.

"We'll walk in when the second gong goes off." The girl said with a reassuring smile. "Good luck, Katniss."

She must have been one of the desperate fans who saw in "the girl-on-fire" an important amount of heroism and bravery, but in Katniss's opinion, that whole story was mere illusions created by the Capitol to cover up their flawed system. If only girls such as that young fifteen year-old knew the actual truth, She thought with a sigh, they'd understand that Katniss was as normal as the next person.

"Thanks" She managed to choke out and passed one of Haymitch's arms around her neck, providing him with enough support to stagger towards Flickerman.

Just as they stepped forward, the loud gong ringed out along with the majestical music which the show used as its trademark for the introduction of the new tributes.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Caesar's voice ringed irritably in Katniss' ears. "I give you district twelve's shining stars: Haymitch Abernathy and Katniss Everdeen!"

* * *

The screams and cheers of the crowd were like an abrasive influence, and she feared that every spectator present in that room was meaning to strip her of her true self in order to shape her the way they pleased, presenting her as their property, their own precious puppet. And in the panic of the moment, in the folly triggered by their appearances on stage, she tripped on a single step which she had failed to see. Barely two yards away from Caesar Flickerman, She and Haymitch toppled over. Somehow, she landed on him in such an embarrassing position, straddling his waist, and the audience doubled over in laughter and liveliness. Flushed, she quickly rose to her feet and walked ahead to meet Caesar with a forced smile.

"Katniss, oh, enchanting Katniss!" The host sang with a chuckle. "That was quite an entrance, wasn't it?" He remarked and motioned for her to sit down on the red velvet armchair facing his.

"I blame Haymitch's debauchery." Katniss answered with a shrug.

Gleefully, the red-haired man strutted toward the drunken victor and helped him up, leading him to the same armchair which Katniss sat in. Noisily, Haymitch collapsed on the large arm-rest and burped right into Katniss's ear. The crowd went merry and cheerful again.

"If only I could kill you in the arena, Haymitch." Katniss glared at the blond-haired wreck of a man.

Caesar and the entire audience laughed hysterically but the young tribute could not join in their grotesque bliss. If anything, she wished she could leave sooner than planned.

"Ladies and gentlemen." Caesar resumed. "The Girl-on-fire!" He yelled with a merry gesture, driving the crowd berserk.

Katniss had to gulp and look elsewhere, anywhere but at the people who caused her stomach to churn.

"Now, now, let's regain some seriousness, my friends." Caesar chirped with a disconcerting grin.

The audience calmed down but Katniss realized with disgust that a peaceful audience was no better than one that was hyper. Instead of looking simply insane, now their curiosity made them appear tactless and inconsiderate. She could only dream of throwing grenades at their absurd faces.

"Katniss and Haymitch, why don't you tell us a few things about the Quarter Quell? What do you think of it?" Caesar asked solemnly.

"Hopefully, there will be some bottles of whisky in the arena. That should be enough to keep me alive." Haymitch slurred loudly and Katniss wished he would pass out already.

Once again, the crowd proceeded to laugh hysterically.

"What about you, Katniss? What do you have to say?" Caesar asked politely.

But she were not listening to a word he said. Her gaze had move to the raised platform behind Haymitch, where all of the other tributes and victors were. Among them, she spotted Finnick sitting between two slender blond-haired careers. His charm seemed to be full-on that night and the two loving women were very much moved by it. She did not know why, but she wished jealously that she could push them out of the way so as to be there next to him, safe and far from Caesar's annoying questions.

"Someone isn't paying much attention, tonight! Dear, do you find Finnick more interesting than any of us?" Caesar joked with a terrible forced laugh.

"What – No, I was just... just thinking." Katniss said with a nervous chuckle.

"Well, we can't blame you darling! Finnick _is_, after all, Panem's beauty isn't he?"

The crowd started screaming and moaning hysterically as if Caesar had just announced the apocalypse. Women especially, among the spectators, were losing it altogether.

"Now, tell me Katniss. What are you exactly? The Girl-on-fire or the Girl-in-water?" Caesar asked with a skeptical smirk.

Spontaneously, Katniss's eyes focused on Finnick and Cato, the only other people she knew from district four.

"I think I'm a little bit of both now." She said like a cyborg, knowing the words that the game makers wanted her to say. "I feel very much close to home, to district twelve and that story about the fire which almost destroyed the region but I also feel very attached to four where I've lived half my life."

The audience cooed as if she were being sentimental when all she could think of where blood and death.

"Of course, you are no regular tribute, darling. You are here today as the _Girl-on-fire_, the child celebrity of Panem which is to stand alongside a victor for representing district twelve in the upcoming Quarter Quell. Tell me, how do you feel about this whole _filling in for the lack of victors?"_

Katniss had to repress the several cuss words which threatened to spill out of her mouth. The urge to scream hysterically the way Johanna did when she had to address the crowd seemed so compelling. Apart from her mother, she had no one to worry about. Prim was gone, her father had long died and she did not exactly have any close friends, in fact she did not have _any_ friends. So who would be the one paying for her actions? Her mother? Wasn't she a talented doctor? Wouldn't the Capitol spare her because of that?

"I'm not sure." Katniss said carefully.

Her prep team hadn't given her any instructions regarding such a question, they probably just expected her to grin idiotically in praise of the game makers' wonderful idea.

"I guess I feel just like any other tribute." She said with a nonchalant shrug.

"What about all the tributes and victors coming together as one team, what do you think of that?" Caesar asked sympathetically.

"I'm not sure if such an amount of young people can actually coordinate properly, I'm not sure we can really be a team. I mean there are about sixty of us, that's quite a disconcerting number." She answered truthfully.

The crowd remained calm and expectant. Katniss could have sworn that her pounding heart was about to pop out of her chest. The silence which fell over the huge auditorium was a stark and unsettling moment of dead air. None of the interviewed victors and tributes had been that truthful, all of them had just waved off the question, trying to look funny or indifferent. But overall, the idea of all these tributes fighting alongside each other was supposed to be praised, _that she knew,_ but she could not bring herself to lie anymore. To hell with the consequences of her actions, she thought bitterly.

"Why, I believe that you made quite a smart point, my dear." Caesar said solemnly. "Well, well, we would _love_ to keep you to ourselves," He added in a renewed chirpy voice, "but I'm afraid you are going to have to share the spotlight!"

The familiar gong went off and Caesar stood up graciously. The pompous music announced the introduction of the rest of district twelve's team.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Caesar's voice sang loudly as the three teenagers walked onstage. "District twelve's tributes: Peeta Mellark, Gale Hawthorn and Zara Warrany."

The crowd applauded and cheered loudly as the threesome sat down on the red couch posited next to the velvet armchair on which sat Katniss and Haymitch.

* * *

Katniss sighed heavily, feeling enslaved and exploited. She wished she could escape already. As she expected, Caesar focused on the three teenagers at hand, asking them a question each and encouraging them to open up, somehow, or try to be jokers of some sort. It did not work except for the blond-haired Peeta. Gale Hawthorne was the worst case of acerbity and crabbiness. The brown-eyed and black-haired Zara was more of a spontaneous innocent child, but an apprehensive one nonetheless. The seconds ticked by way too slowly in Katniss's opinion and when the gong signaling the end of their interview finally echoed throughout the grand place, she jumped up, ready to flee the stage altogether. Unfortunately, a couple of dark-cladded security agents lead her to the higher platform instead of the exit which she had lunged for. Up there where the rest of the sixty something tributes and victors, sitting in several rows of large luxurious couches. Desperately, she staggered through the different rows and came to halt in front of Finnick.

"Hi." She said in one breath.

"Hello, you." Finnick said playfully. "You look a little tense, want to join us?" He offered and tried to make room for her on the large and yet occupied couch.

The two blonds sitting on each side of him would not move though and Finnick realized with laughter that Katniss was not welcome there.

"Maybe I'll just find somewhere else to sit." She said dejectedly and turned on her hills, ready to flee.

Two strong and gentle arms stopped her from doing so and she froze in place as Finnick held her against him. He had been so swift, so agile that she had not even heard him stand up, yet he was right behind her with each of his hands resting on her stomach.

"_I_ want your company, Katniss." He said simply. "And if Cashmere and Glimmer won't move, then I don't mind you sitting on my lap." He added with a warm chuckle.

She turned around with a start, half expecting him to be staring viciously at her hair or her behind but he was doing no such thing. His gleaming sea-green eyes bore into hers with such fondness and chastity that she found herself speechless and willing to be engrossed in his warm presence.

Softly, gently, he sat down pulling her along and she flopped comfortably into his embrace. She wondered if the whole experience was part of the Games' effects. If all tributes and victors found themselves suddenly sensitive and in desperate need of affection once they got reaped. But as soon as her eyes met Cato's, she realized that the Games had definitely already started to change each and every one of them. They had not stepped a single foot in the arena yet, and already they were different. Cato especially, because as she kept looking him in the eye, she could see that the hatred and scorn which used to characterize his gaze had disappeared altogether. If anything at the moment, he looked concerned, so much so that she wondered if maybe, her ex-bully could actually see her for the first time, really _see_ her.

"You know about those experiments." Finnick's velvet voice whispered in her ear, interrupting her and Cato's staring contest.

She nodded gently and turned her head so as to look into his wistful eyes.

"I feel like I know you a lot better than I actually do." He explained with a little smile.

"I know." She said simply. "I have had dreams too, I dream of your memories."

It was a strange thing to experience, she knew that. But she could not bring herself to regret the consequences of Snow's undertaking. It brought Finnick and her together in ways they never knew, never could have imagined and it felt surprisingly and abnormally good, extremely good even.

"I'm glad I'm sharing them with you." He blurted out without much thinking and Katniss felt weak as he looked up at her.

"I'm glad I'm sharing mine with you too." She said truthfully.

At least she knew that, having lost a father and a sister as well, Finnick could understand her, understand her life. And she couldn't explain it, and she didn't want to explain it either, but Finnick was a warm and safe cocoon which she had grown to really appreciate. And the more she thought of him, the better she felt around him.

She looked ahead again and his chin lodged in the crook of her neck. A moment later, his soft hands closed in on hers and his warmth sent delightful shivers down her spine. At least with him, she realized with a liberating and exhilarating sigh, _she could breath._ She could inhale and exhale comfortably as if she were lying in a peaceful forest. In fact, she could even imagine a clear and brilliant sky overhead, lighting up her mood and putting a serene smile on her face. The sun, hanging high in that sky and spreading its glow and hospitality was no one else but him, Finnick Odair. The sea-green eyed beauty of Panem. For the first time in her life, she could afford to think that, maybe with a bit more time, she would relax and do away with her pervasive skepticism and wariness...

…...

Much to her relief, the show eventually came to an end and she had to follow her team to the training center, a huge glass building which had been especially altered for the third Quarter Quell. A whole three-floor layer had been added at the top, and the different suites had been enlarged to welcome more tributes.

Despite those slight differences, each district still had its own floor, and when Katniss stepped into the elevator, Effie Trinket's manicured finger landed delicately on the twelve button. Inside the cubicle were also Haymitch, Peeta Melark, Gale Hawthorne and Zara Warrany. None of them said a thing as their faces bore a worn mask of indifference.

"I know it's only for a little while, but you are going to love the training center! Everything's so beautiful and expensive here!" Effie squealed exaggeratedly.

In response to her enthusiasm, the three teenagers growled and Haymitch collapsed like a heavy stack of potatoes. _Wonderful_, Katniss thought with satisfaction, _the wreck finally passed out._

"Oh, dear! I will call up some peacekeepers and he will be in his room in no time!" Effie said with a nod.

Katniss winced at the mention of peacekeepers. She knew how lethal or perverted they could be. They would probably be rude and more violent than necessary. Without much thinking she put a hand over Effie's shoulder.

"It's alright. I can take care of him." She said with a polite smile.

Effie's eyes grew twice their size in surprise but she smiled approvingly nonetheless.

The light ding of the elevator indicated that they had reached their floor and Katniss proceeded to pull at the drunken man. With a clouded look, he stared at her and tried to rise to his feet. Somehow, they managed to stagger to their assigned apartment where Haymitch was pushed down on a large cushiony bed.

"Thank you, Katniss. That was very nice of you." Effie's high pitched voice sang.

With a shrug, the seventeen year-old smiled and walked out of the bedroom.

"You are free to wander in the building as much as you'd like tonight, but you have to be up early tomorrow! Training will start at 10am sharp!" Effie warned as Katniss bolted out the door.

…...

Her first thought went to Finnick and his floor, number four, but another number attracted her attention. It was labelled D-L for dinner and lounge and was located above twelve.

"Let's check you out, oh majestic thirteen floor." She sang in mockery, emulating a Capitol accent.

Mashing the button, she waited for the doors to close impatiently, but just as they started to shut, a tanned and muscular arm pulled at them and Gale Hawthorne stepped inside the cubical.

"Where are you headed, Hawthorne?" She asked with annoyance sipping through her voice.

"Nowhere in particular, I just wanted a little tour." He said with a shrug.

"I'm going to the thirteenth floor." She said flatly.

"Then I guess I'll be going there too." He said casually.

The doors finally shut and the elevator moved graciously upward.

"So... Girl-on-fire." He stated with a despising smirk. "You must think highly of the Capitol and all the privileges it showered you with ever since that fire thing in district twelve."

Her blood boiled in her veins and her hands tensed into fists. How dared he judge her in such a condescending way? He didn't even know her, he'd probably only seen her on T.V, and yet there he was, considering himself as morally superior.

"You don't know the first thing about me so do me a favor," She barked at him. "The next time we run into each other, keep you mouth shut."

The glass doors slid open and she slipped out of the elevator. Still angered by his prejudice, she stomped inside the grand dinner and walked straight to the shiny mahogany bar.

An avox came immediately and stood politely before her with a generous smile on his face. She looked up at the endless list of beverages which hung overhead and sighed. She had no idea what any of the names corresponded to and wasn't even sure if she actually wanted something to drink. The avox pointed at a beverage called Strawberry milkshake and nodded kindly.

With a lop-sided smile, Katniss approved.

"I like strawberries and I like milk so I guess I'll go with that." She said with a cheerful nod.

The avox rushed to one of the strange machines in his bar and proceeded to make the mixture. He started with a stack of strawberries which he threw in a recipient and added different other liquids to it, including milk.

Katniss watched him meticulously, wishing she could remember the recipe, but realized that milk and strawberries should be enough to produce a descent drink.

"How about we start again?" A husky voice asked and a heavy hand landed on her shoulder.

She turned around in her seat and noticed Gale Hawthorne's towering figure.

"My name's Gale, I'm a miner, I have several siblings and a devoted mother. In my free time, I like to go hunting or wrestling." He said in one breath.

"I really don't feel like talking tonight, sorry, Gale." She said between two sighs.

He noticed the use of his first name and assumed that she meant to be less arrogant than she really were.

"How about we just share a drink." He offered and leaned over the bar.

But she was already recoiling from his presence, his proximity was too much for comfort and his demeanor was cruelly vulgar and awkward.

"Thanks, but no thanks." She answered with a polite and yet forced smile.

"Oh, common! Just one drink." He insisted and stepped closer, causing their elbows to touch.

"She said no, idiot! Can't you stupid males ever take a hint?" An angry voice bellowed.

Katniss immediately recognized Johanna Mason. Just like Gale and Katniss, she was still wearing the clothes for the interviews but she had gotten rid of the uncomfortable hills and was now stomping toward them barefoot.

"Seriously though, walk away." She warned with a murderous look and Gale Hawthorne tore away from the bar with a growl.

"Bitch." He mumbled as he walked away.

"Asshole." was Johanna's hateful response.

"Someone just got rejected." A velvet voice said with a light chuckle.

Katniss snapped her head in its direction and was relieved to see Finnick walking graciously toward her. With a beaming smile, she turned toward Johanna and chuckled.

"Thank you, he was starting to really irritate me." She said with a grateful nod.

"No problem." Johanna mumbled and ordered a beer.

"So, Girl-on-fire, what do you plan on doing tonight?" Finnick's voice asked seductively.

"I plan to drink my milkshake." She answered with a grin.

"Well, you know Johanna and I are victors, so we know the building a little bit better than the rest of you newcomers." He explained with playful smile. "So how about we give you a tour?"

"HA!" Johanna snorted. "_You_ are giving her a tour." She corrected. "I'm staying here, I want to get drunk before tomorrow." She slurred and downed her beer.

"Well." Finnick breathed out. "I guess it'll be just the two of us." He whispered in Katniss's ear.

She could have sworn that her hair was standing on her skin, as if Finnick's proximity released some sort of electromagnetic signal, yet he looked so casual and composed, his sea-green eyes scrutinizing her shamelessly. And already she looked forward to that little tour and the precious moments she'd share, almost exclusively, with him, _and him only._

* * *

_Please let me know if the length of the chapters deters you from reading. Thanks anyways :)_


	4. Chapter 4

_All the ways that you think you know me_  
_All the limits that you figured out, _  
_Had to learn to keep it all below me_  
_Just to keep from being thrown around_

(Christina Aguilera, We Remain)

…...

She followed him to the elevator and waited patiently as his finger loomed hesitantly over the different buttons.

"Have you ever been to the roof?" She asked curiously and he looked up for a brief second.

"Yeah, but they must have changed the whole thing since they built a few more floors for this year's games." He said casually but his finger pushed the button which lead to the top of the building nonetheless.

As the elevator lifted, she had the opportunity to take a closer look at him, to examine him meticulously. His soft and bronze hair looked sleek and tamed, yet he weren't wearing gel and that only added to his natural beauty. The golden and black blazer fitted him perfectly. Under it, he wore a thin white shirt which molded his torso and left little to the imagination. Staring off in empty space, he stood elegantly with one of his legs bending over and resting on the clean and glistening glass which faced the grand entrance hall of the first floor. When he looked up at the glass ceiling, he seemed to be lost in another world or in a complicated series of thoughts and even when his eyebrows furrowed confusingly, Katniss realized, he still managed to look good. With a sigh, she thought with jealousy that he would probably steal all the sponsors away from the rest of the tributes because not only was he famous and adored by the capitol but he was also a handsome young man who had grasped the full meaning of good manners, politeness and charisma – in fact, he could have even claimed ownership of them given how good he was at capturing people's sympathy and admiration.

"My brainless escort said something about a greenhouse." He remarked as the elevator reached the last floor and Katniss had to lower her head and look anywhere but in his direction for him not to notice her gawking.

"That sounds pretty nice." She replied with a polite smile and glanced at him very briefly.

"Yeah, it does." He said nonchalantly and slipped his hands into his pockets.

She did neither understand nor know why but she felt shy and awkward. All of a sudden, the nice little tour she had idealized seemed a lot less fantastic and more realistically ordinary. Or maybe it must have been Finnick. His sudden lack of flirt and cheesiness had quite an effect on the atmosphere, she thought when she looked up at him again. Had she done something wrong as they left the thirteenth floor? Had she said something too serious?

"After you." He said, ever the gentleman and she realized that the glass doors had already opened, allowing them to step onto the last floor.

"What the hell." Was all she could mutter as she wondered at the sight of the huge room, all decorated by plants and flowers and with overhead, the wonderful vaulted ceiling shimmering in a patchwork of colorful pieces of glass.

"The Capitol must have invested quite the sum of money for this place to look so magical." Finnick whispered with a sarcastic chuckle. "It's always about money anyways."

"I wonder where they hid all the cameras." She said and walked ahead of him.

The place looked like a heavenly garden inclosed in an uncanny and enchanting glasshouse. It had myriads of fruit trees and colorful flowers, all circled by a canopy of fern which glistened under the hanging chandeliers. Each of the lighting bulbs displayed all around them had dazzling diamonds incrusted on them and it looked as if stars dangled overhead among the glass surface and the climbing plants.

"Maybe there aren't any." He said with a wistful and hopeful smile.

"I doubt that." She whispered with a sigh though she wished he was right.

"Half the plants and flowers present in this room I've never even seen before." Finnick remarked with a grimace.

"I think I've already heard of some of them. Prim used to love biology and medicinal herbs and she must haven mentioned a thousand different flowers and seeds but which I think I've forgotten for the most part." Katniss explained and raised a finger, ready to touch one of the high poppies which tickled her vision with its brilliant red.

"You were lucky to have her." He said simply and refused to touch any of the mystifying plants.

"I know." She whispered and exhaled heavily.

Then she caught sight of a dreadful plant, one that reminded her of her deceased sister and she feared she would feel sick among the green foliage. It was of a bright and captivating yellow, tilting slightly to the side and facing her, it grazed her nose when she stepped closer, sending its beautiful flavor right into her nostrils. And when her fingers caressed its soft petals, she was positive that she had guessed right. Slipping easily through her fingers was a primrose, a delicate and pretty little primrose peeking shyly out of the white bouquet of roses.

"Annie used to love the ocean and the big dark rocks on the shore." Finnick said with a light chuckle. "She would always sit there for hours, as if there was something new to see everyday and I used to make fun of her."

With a light and gentle smile, Katniss tore away from the yellow flower to look up at a thoughtful Finnick.

"I used to make fun of Prim too. Especially when she started ranting about her precious biology books. And she tried to get me to draw some herbs at one point but I ruined the whole thing." She said with a genuine laugh. "After that she stopped bothering me altogether and simply accepted the fact that I didn't care much about it all."

"It's funny how selfish you feel once that person's gone and you start wondering if maybe you had paid more attention to all the little details of their everyday life than the guilt wouldn't be so bad now. You wouldn't blame yourself for all the missed opportunities."

"You mean all these times we could have spent more time with them." Katniss admitted with a lop-sided smile.

"More often than not, I just wish I was dead instead of her." Finnick said with a nervous chuckle.

Katniss tried to gauge his emotional state as she looked up at his face. The two of them had reached the large and curving balcony and were now leaning on the black railing facing the rest of the ecstatic city. The wonderful view was a vivid image. Lighting up the horizon with its numerous skyscrapers stretching up high and its long highways turning and twisting under silver bridges, the city looked unbreakable.

"Well." Katniss exhaled, unable to guess exactly how he felt. "That's one thing we have in common."

"Has Snow ever – " Finnick stopped mid sentence when his eyes met Katniss's.

He had never noticed it before but her dark orbs were of an enticing grey, a dark grey which now glistened against the dim light of the discreet bulbs hanging to the railing in a crafted whirlwind of big white dots.

"Has Snow ever what?" She asked and her dark eyebrows furrowed, creating wrinkles in her olive skinned forehead.

"Well – hum, about – I think about your sister." He stuttered and was surprised to hear uncertainty and shyness in his voice as her hypnotizing eyes bore into his expectantly.

"I mean." He tried again with a long sigh. "Has Snow ever tried to buy your sister?" He managed to ask without a stutter.

"Well." She started and inhaled deeply. "I wasn't sure up until the accident. Now I'm practically positive that he must have tried to and that Prim put up a fight somehow... and the accident must have been the best way to silence her."

"I was thinking the same thing about Annie." He whispered, regaining some confidence.

"I can only blame myself for her secrecy, if I had been a better sister then she might have said something about what was going on." Katniss said with a tremor in her voice which she had failed to repress.

"You can't think like that." He warned and for a few seconds she failed to take her eyes off of his see-green orbs.

"Annie and Prim wouldn't tell us about their problems because they thought they were protecting us." He explained and moved closer.

Before she could even think her actions through, she willed her body to slip over to his side, causing their arms and shoulders to touch.

"It's kind of comforting you know." He whispered. "To know that someone else is going through the same thing, and they're right there beside you and you can feel their presence and their warmth."

It took her a few seconds to realize that he was trying to switch his flirty habit back on but the sorrow and disappointment seeping through his voice, ruining whatever attempt to look casual, betrayed his act. In fact, Finnick's watery eyes looked serious enough for her to believe his weakness and sad enough for her to think that maybe, he really felt a connexion and was glad to have someone as miserable as he was by his side.

"I agree." She said kindly and the thoughtful see-green eyes looked so vulnerable that she felt that it was only natural for hers to dart away from him and back to the lively city.

"It's getting late." He said with a furrowed eyebrow. "We should postpone the tour to another night don't you think? You should go rest. I'll stay here for a while longer." He added with a feeble smile.

"I would like to stay too. But if you want some alone time and are kindly asking me to go then I'll leave." She said and stared ahead at the marvelous city.

"No." He whispered. "I'd love for you to stay." He added warmly but kept looking up at he dark night sky.

As if turning his head Katniss's way was too much of a risk, as if he would crumble the moment she'd see how tiring it was for him to keep up that stupid show for the Capitol, he refused to meet her dark eyes again but much to her relief, Katniss thought she could understand. Standing alongside each other seemed to be enough for the two of them to hold their heads high, she realized, and together, they seemed to find enough strength to pretend for a little while that everything was alright, and that they were not to die within the following weeks.

…...

He stood on a one foot high platform, his legs bending, his arms stiff by his sides. His sea-green eyes bore such innocence and fear but above all, they shone with determination and hope. He had to give it a shot, he had to win for them. For Mags and Annie. He had to get back home to make Annie rich, otherwise she'd remain poor and weak and the worst thing he feared would happen to his beloved sister. Like the rest of the abandoned and starving females of district four, she would become a prostitute, she would be sold to the Capitol, and he could never live with that. No scratch that, he could never die knowing she'd end up that way.

The bright numbers flashing on the top of the Cornucopia seemed to be in synch with the loud thumping of his heart. Only ten seconds were left when he looked up at the mouth of the Cornucopia one last time. Among the weapons and life-saving supplies he'd noticed the one thing which he knew belonged to him: the golden trident sitting atop a stack of mesmerizing and mouth-watering green apples. How ironical, he thought with a bitter smile, they just had to put his favorite fruits and favorite weapon fifty yards away from him but right in front of him. All he had to do was run straight toward them.

The very last rhythmic gongs were the most harrowing noise he ever had to experience and he feared his heart would jump out of his ribcage.

3, 2, 1...

And then the games officially began. With unbreakable ambition, he jumped off the platform like a wild cat. He was gracious and swift, sprinting across the flat prairie of purple lavender and red poppy. He knew he were one of the youngest tributes, one of the weakest but he had such strong belief and hope that he refused to consider losing, not even for a split second.

Running like he never did before, he reached his trident at the same time as the four, cold faced careers. Not sparing a second and yet surprised by his own ability to remain composed enough to act cleverly, he dived right onto the stack of green apples as if it were mere water, confusing the four already puzzled careers and catching the trident gracefully. Tactfully, he rolled on his back, just in time for the jagged knife to pass over his head, releasing a light and yet deadly swish. At least one of the four careers had been just as quick as him, he thought with bitter mockery. Grabbing two apples off the bright green grass, he rolled again to avoid an eighteen year old giant lunging at him with an axe. Hastily, his shaky hand shoved the two apples in the large front pocket of his black jacket while his sea-green eyes wondered at the six foot three high blond haired murderer, he was pulling his axe off the earth, getting ready to hit again. Threateningly, he raised the deadly weapon higher and with more precision that time in order to finish Finnick off.

"I got _Odair_, guys! The rest of them are on you!" His husky voice hollered and just as he swung the axe down on the little fourteen year old, the tricky trident slammed against the top of the axe, stopping the sharp edge barely an inch away from Finnick's face.

"Putting up a fight, huh?" The cold blooded teenager barked at a red faced Finnick.

Trying to think clearly of his father's words about fishing out on the sea, especially going after big and heavy fishes, ten feet long sharks included; Finnick remembered something about stronger creatures, about a way to turn their strength against them. He knew he could put all those fishing lessons into use. Hell, those were the Hunger Games, anything could be put to use as long as it saved your life, he thought with a smirk.

Perplexed, the eighteen year-old career put more pressure over the axe, pushing it with all his might, and _that_, Finnick realized with a growl, was his chance. Hearing his father's wise words echo in his mind, he let go of one end of the trident, causing the axe to slip to the side. And using the brute's strength against him, he raised his knee up to his square chin and kicked him off. The career collapsed violently with his face diving right into the mushy grass.

Eager to get out of the bloodbath and away from an already formed alliance of careers, Finnick jumped up and thrusted his trident right into the boy's lower back. Blood splashed against his face, but he didn't dare wipe it away. The disturbing sound of bones cracking and the piercing scream of the injured boy left the worst impression on Finnick's young and no longer innocent mind but he didn't have the time or luxury to ponder his morals. He had to leave, quick. And he did. He ran away from the prairie and toward the beech trees, craving the safe canopy of the forest.

Katniss woke up with a start. Her pillow was damp due to her sweating and her heart pounded furiously inside her chest. She realized that she had sat up as soon as she'd woken and that in doing so she had knocked her water bottle away from the nightstand. She wondered if she had been screaming when her hand landed on her sore throat but she had her answer the moment another person stepped into her room.

"Are you alright?" Effie asked in her usual chirpy voice and stood hesitantly next to the mahogany door.

Because her throat ached Katniss dared not speak and chose to nod instead.

"Are you sure?" Effie asked with concern.

To put on a convincing show, Katniss tore away from the bed and toward Effie with a smile.

"Is it time already?" She enquired in a broken voice.

"Yes." Effie sang with a beaming grin. "You have less than an hour to get ready and come have breakfast with the rest of us."

Katniss sighed as she walked to the bathroom, she didn't feel ready for training, not at all. If anything, she had the impression that she had slept for less than five minutes and it wasn't even a dreamless sleep, it had been a horrific and nightmarish sleep. She didn't need any explanation or confirmation, she knew the images she saw that night were one of Finnick's dreadful memories and which Snow had – by some strange operation – managed to insert into her own subconscious.

…...

Breakfast had been too boring to be worth remembering. Peeta and Effie had been the only ones chatting at the large luxurious table. Haymitch had spent the whole time drinking, drowning his sorrows and celebrating his imminent death in alcohol. Zara Warrany, the frail female tribute, had stuffed herself with as much food as her stomach could stand while Gale Hawthorne had eaten meat and almost meat only, it was as if he were planning to become a cannibal.

Eager to start training, Katniss could only feel relieved when they left their suite and reached the gigantic gymnasium of the training center where they were to start practicing their physical skills. With a tint of hope, she thought she'd see Finnick and perhaps even ask him to teach her how to swim better because all her life, she had neglected that one activity. But when they stepped inside the grand hall at the entrance of the gym, the place was so crowded that she failed to find him and dejectedly resolved to training on her own.

"Attention, tributes." A voice called out through the massive speakers hung on each side of the huge hall.

"This sports facility has been especially renewed for the third quarter Quell. You are free to explore each of its departments, and because for this year's games you will be fighting _for_ each other, interaction and team spirit shall be your only rules." Seneca Crane's voice warned with a disturbing chuckle.

The entire room went into a frenzy of loud chattering and Katniss felt uncomfortable as she realized she were one of the very few people who stood erect and alone among the different groups which had formed in the center of the grand hall.

"But don't forget." Seneca chirped suddenly, silencing everyone and startling Katniss. "You're still a lone contestant when it comes to sponsors, so shine as bright as you can." He advised cheerfully. "Oh, and of course." He added in a more serious voice. "May the odds be ever in your favor."

…...

She had purposely avoided Haymitch, Gale, Peeta and Zara. Though exploring the facility by herself made her look like a complete loner, she felt that it was only natural for her to keep to herself. Besides, she thought, Seneca Crane had said that being a good teammate didn't necessary mean that sponsors would find any of them convincing. Naturally, when she stepped inside the maze of various sections, her first spontaneous thought had gone to the two instructors in the archery station, they stood patiently beside the silver bows and arrows.

"Beginner?" The stout woman asked when Katniss approached.

"Amateur." Katniss answered flatly.

The instructor nodded and pointed her finger toward the dark and narrow hall which lead to the large glass room.

"You can go straight to the combat-simulation room. You will be free to choose the appropriate level of simulated attacks but I suggest you start easy." The woman advised.

"Thanks." Katniss said with a stiff smile and walked through the corridor.

She reached a dark glass room which faced the swordsmanship station and the hand-to-hand combat station. Much to her relief, the majority of the tributes swinging silver swords at the dummies or punching the air, were too busy to even notice her and the thick glass wall was solid enough to be soundproof. Amazed by the stunning quality of the hanging stacks of quivers and bows, she picked one thin recurve bow and passed the strap of a fully loaded quiver over her head. Carefully, she approached the flat screen on which she were to set the right routine. Feeling already comfortable enough with the smooth bow she held in her hand, she chose to go for the toughest level. A short demonstration appeared on the screen, showing that the tributes were to expect projectiles of different kinds, assailants of every kind (genetically modified animals included) and natural phenomenons such as gusts of wind, downpours and flames. Of course, those were all simulations and the trainee did not have to fear any actual harm.

With a heavy sigh, Katniss pushed the large green button to start the game and then ran to the center point on which she had to stand for the whole exercise to start.

A chilling countdown reverberated throughout the large and hollow room. Bending her legs and pulling a first arrow from her quiver, Katniss stood in position, ready to shoot at anything, duck away from any danger. But as only three seconds were left for the training session to start, her eyes darted back to the hand-to-hand combat station at her right and the sudden sight of a bronze haired and sea-green eyed Finnick distracted her. She looked at him a moment too long as he stood casually before the glass wall with his hands resting on the glistening surface. He looked eager to watch her train and she felt slightly uncomfortable knowing she had somewhat of an audience. Then, before she knew it, the gong went off and she wasn't ready, not in the slightest.

Her mouth screamed obscenities at an amused Finnick when a fake ball of fire almost got her head. She didn't even have time to step away when another danger sprang out of a dark corner of the room. It was a horrifying wolf, with white glistening fangs lunging at her face and sharp claws stretching toward her chest. The strange simulated animal thrusted her hard, sending her crashing down to the soft tatami. Instinctively, she had pulled up her bow to shield herself, stopping the beast's face barely an inch away from hers. She wondered if it was real, she wondered where all the strength came from if it was all fake. But she didn't have time to think about such details, two tall and well built dummies emerged from a higher platform. They came running toward her with rip-stick disc blades and her eyes widened in horror when the two of them threw the weapons her way. With hissing sounds, the two projectiles ripped through the air but with a loud growl, Katniss managed to push the wolf to the side, using him as a bulwark. The two disc blades lodged in its fur and the wounded beast released a painful howl. Not sparing another second, Katniss discarded the dying animal by kicking it to the side and jumped up to her feet. With a light moan she rolled to the side to avoid two other projectiles, two spears which she watched swish by her head. With a pounding heart, she looked up and around and realized that she was now surrounded by four dummies, all tall and wide. And the four of them ran toward her with perfect synchronization.

With a wild grimace of determination and confidence, she pulled arrow after arrow as swiftly as she could and chose to give each shot less than a second for targeting. The first and closest dummy dived too late to avoid the arrow which slipped through its abdomen. One down, she thought, but she wouldn't let her guard down so she kept turning gracefully and meticulously, gauging the three other dummies converging in her direction.

When he was only a yard away from her, the second dummy to her left stumbled and fell violently, her arrow had gone right through his thigh. The third one seemed to be more alert and tactfully managed to dodge her arrows before lunging toward her. With urgency, she pulled a last arrow and let it fly after taking a few more seconds for targeting. The pointed silver edge grazed the dummy's forehead as he tilted his head to the side. Weakened, he wobbled for a few seconds, but as Katniss pulled another arrow to finish him off, the last and fourth dummy threw a hatchet her way and she had no other choice than dive away for safety. Now the wounded dummy had had time to recover and the last dummy was pushing her hard against the glass wall. A loud thumping noise echoed throughout the room and she winced. No actual harm, my ass! She thought as the dummy proceeded to smash her one more time. Though her bow was out of reach – she realized she must have let go of it only seconds before – she knew that she still had her arrows, so she pulled one out of the quiver and drove it into the dummy's neck. The damaged toy fell to the floor, vibrating. She wanted to grab her bow and use it to injure the last dummy left, but he was too close for comfort and she barely had enough seconds left to act. Swiftly, she grabbed another arrow which she raised tactfully, and closing one eye to better aim, she threw it at the wide inhuman imitation. He tried to bend to avoid the projectile but it grazed his shoulder nonetheless and eventually lodged itself in his right eye.

Breathless, Katniss looked up with relief when the automatic voice announced the end of the session. But what she had forgotten and was now surprised to see, was her audience. On the other side of the glass wall, all tributes had stopped their training and were staring at her in awe. Among them was Finnick, grinning at her and nodding approvingly with a fine flicker in his eyes. Though she felt flattered to have the entirety of the nearby stations staring at her, Finnick's admiring sea-green eyes were the only praise she really needed, the only reason why she found herself smiling contentedly.

…...

"Nice try." The instructor said when she came out of the room.

"Thanks." She said with a smug look.

"Hey, Everdeen!" A male voice called and she turned on her hills to look at its owner. "Didn't know you could do all that." He said enthusiastically.

"What do you want Cato?" She asked with a sigh.

"Am I not allowed to compliment you?" He asked with a playful smirk.

"When have you ever complimented me? All you ever did was bully me." She answered defensively.

"Well, things change, Katniss." He said with a lop-sided smile. "_I_'ve changed." He added with a shrug.

She didn't say anything, she only looked at him with obvious wariness in her eyes.

"Look, how about you teach me Archery and I'll help you with swordsmanship or hand-to-hand combat? You seem like you don't know much about those." He offered with a kind smile.

"Thanks but no thanks." She said through gritted teeth.

"Do me a favor." Cato said as she turned away from him. "At least, give it a thought."

"I won't promise you anything." She said with another sigh.

"I know." Cato said and walked away nonchalantly. "And that's enough for me." He added in a low voice.

Even though he was getting further away from her, she heard everyone of his last words. With thoughtful eyes, she watched him leave the archery station and tried to picture the two of them working together. Such an image was completely alien to her, so much so that it made her feel sick and she was convinced that she would never take him up on the offer.

…...

"Katniss Everdeen, the Girl on fire!" Finnick sung out in a capitol accent.

"Finnick Odair, the sex symbol of Panem!" Katniss gushed like a groupie.

The two of them laughed at their own voices.

"That was quite a show in the archery station." He remarked with a grin.

"It was!" She said louder than she planned. "Who would have thought that the training center had such realistic robots for simulations."

"Oh I wasn't talking about the Capitol's latest technology." Finnick said with a flirty smirk.

Katniss felt her lips twitch into a smile.

"What were you talking about then?" She asked and was surprised to hear such playfulness in her voice.

"You mean, who? Who stole the show?" He said with a chuckle.

"Oh, yeah, I wonder who that is?" She feigned curiosity.

For a moment, she caught sight of her own reflection in the glass wall behind Finnick and was astonished to see herself act so flirty.

"Hey." Finnick said with a wink. "How about we train together for the rest of the day?"

"I would like that." She answered with a genuine smile.

"Common then." He said with a nod and she followed his steps. "I intend to introduce you to the rest of the victors by the way." He added with a teasing smirk.

"That's not necessary." She cried out with urgency.

"Oh, but of course it is." Finnick cooed with a chuckle.

Before she had a chance to escape, he grabbed her hand and pulled her along.

"Lighten up, Katniss! I'm sure they're all going to love you." He said reassuringly and when she looked up at him, she failed to repress a shy smile from forming on her lips.

Though she failed to control her smiling, she did not fail to push his hand away from hers. _That_ was different. If anything, she'd grown to enjoy his tender touch, especially now that their fingers entwined together in harmony and she could feel the warmth radiating from his soft skin.

…...

He was running. The air was ice cold and the thick raindrops splashed against his face as he sprinted through the drained and empty river. His feet clapped loudly against the pebbles and the rocky ground, his stomach growled with hunger, and his heart pounded frantically in his chest.

"Where do you think you're going, Finnick?" A raging voice called as he escaped.

"The river's not gonna help you, fisher boy! It's dry!" Another voice cried out in mockery.

"Shut up, he's almost at the edge!" Another, huskier voice ordered.

With merry surprise, Finnick caught sight of the steep gorge at the end of the river. With renewed hope, he ran faster. He knew that his adversaries where incapable of swimming so all he had to do to get rid of them was reach some water. His last and wishful hope was to find a deep lake down by the gorge but when he was barely thirty feet away from the spot which he wished to jump from, one of the heavy careers tackled him and he slipped to the ground with a screech.

The first punch went to his eye and Finnick released a painful moan, he was almost convinced he would pass out. Another, more painful punch went to his stomach and he coughed miserably. The male career who had him pinned to the ground was a muscled seventeen year old who weighed twice his size so he was growing slightly desperate as to what could be done, especially when the two other careers came to a stop in front of him.

"He's mine!" The tall red-haired girl from district one said angrily. "_I_ get to avenge _him._" She spit at a weakened Finnick.

"You're not so brave anymore now that your trident's out of hand, huh?" She cooed as she kneeled down.

One of her cold hands stroke Finnick's cheek while the other untucked a knife from her belt.

"You know _that boy_ you killed in the blood-bath?" She whispered in his ear and brought the deadly weapon to his neck. "That tall and muscular blond-haired career." She muttered with a mournful hiccup. "Well, _that_ boy was my _fiancée_."

Finnick couldn't help but yelp when the sharp blade pressed dangerously against his soft skin.

"Oh, what a shame." The red-haired girl murmured mockingly. "You barely have enough facial hair to be a grown man but already you must die."

She was about to drive the knife through his neck when a spear hit her forehead. She collapsed to the ground and her blood melted in the rain puddle as it dripped profusely from her forehead.

"Damn it." The male career holding Finnick exclaimed and looked up and about urgently.

With a barely perceptible swish, another spear hit the strong boy in the neck, killing him instantly.

Scared and confused the last career alive ran off to the woods.

Finnick pushed the bloodied teenage boy off of him and stoop up shakily. Ten yards away from him, he noticed an other alliance. Among the four girls, he recognized Alma, his fellow tribute from four.

"Don't just stay there!" She yelled over the sound of the downpour. "Go, Finnick, GO!"

Without a second thought, he grabbed the knife from the dead career's hand, pulled the spear out of the boy's neck and ran off toward the gorge. As he pondered Alma's mercy on him, his heart raced and his eyes watered. He wasn't sure he would have done the same thing, had their roles been exchanged, and that single thought was like a painful and dark secret, one which he knew would dawn on his conscience for ever.

She woke with a hiccup, gasping for air. Instinctively, her hands went to her neck which she caressed carefully. She looked up an away from the black sheets. The bedroom was still dark but she could see that the lights were on in the hall, and against the halo coming inside she recognized the figure of the baker's son.

"Melark? What do you want?" She asked in a hoarse voice.

"You were screaming and I knocked several times but you would just keep on screaming and then I heard something fall off." He explained with a nod.

"Oh, damn it, did I wake the whole suite?" She asked with a sigh.

"No, I think it's just me because my room's right next to yours." He said with a light chuckle.

"I'm sorry. I was having a nightmare." She hated that she had to tell him the truth and that he could see her look so weak and childish but she didn't have the strength to put on a show.

"Oh." Was all that Peeta could mutter.

She tried to catch her breath as she tore away from the warm sheets, willing herself to do anything but sleep.

"Well, you know," He started hesitantly. "I could always make you a sandwich or something, maybe it'll make you feel better." He offered kindly.

"Oh. Thank you but I was thinking of going for a walk, maybe talking to Finnick for a little while." She explained and walked past him and out of the room.

"Finnick Odair?" His voice uttered the name as if it were a decease.

"Yes, Finnick Odair." She felt the need to confirm.

"I thought you guys didn't really know each other. Yet you looked pretty cosy this morning, you even had lunch together after training. I think that rumors are going to break out tomorrow, especially about you sitting on his legs at Flickerman's." He said with a chuckle.

"So?" She muttered with irritation dripping from her voice.

She grabbed her jacket from the coat-rack and slipped it on, ready to leave the suite.

"So, I'd be careful if I were you, that's all." He said kindly and shrugged when she rolled her eyes.

"See you at training, Melark." She said flatly and slammed the front door shut.

…...

Who the hell was he, _that Melark boy_ to act so righteously? And what did he care anyway? She was free to see Finnick as much as she wanted and given their fate anyhow the Capitol could not find much in their relationship, that is, if there was even one. And what the hell had Snow done to her brain at the laboratory? The third nightmare she had had was much more vivid than the others. It was, in fact, more than a dream. It was a fresh memory and it would haunt her for the rest of her life. It felt so real that she could not possibly classify it as a part of her subconscious. Oh, no, it had become a part of reality, _her_ reality.

She hated the feeling, it were as if she had been in Finnick's skin, as if she had lived the whole thing and she wondered how the guy managed to deal with the guilt. Killing or watching another kid being killed was the worst thing she ever had to experience and though that night she had only indirectly undergone the whole situation, though she knew she hadn't killed anyone yet, she felt sick to her stomach. She was not surprised to find herself throwing up in the elevator as it moved down to the fourth floor. With a shaky hand, she wiped at her mouth with the sleeve of her jacket, hoping that her breath wouldn't smell too bad when she gets to Finnick's room.

Dizzily, she staggered out of the elevator and throughout the halls until she reached the massive steel door painted in a blue-navy shade. Tiredly, she mashed the doorbell. She heard shuffling and talking from the other side of the door and soon enough someone opened it, just not the person she wished to see. At the opposite end of her hopes and expectations, a purple haired bimbo stood facing her.

For a moment, she blinked silently, confused as to why a citizen of the Capitol stood before her. She seemed to be around her late twenties, she wore a revealing wardrobe with vulgar underwear and she had smeared make up on her face. Her unnatural curls looked messy and dry as they fell over her eyebrows in an ugly shape of bangs. Her dark eyes wore evident lenses that were of an unnatural purple color and her lips formed that twisted smirk which she had seen on Snow's lips countless times before.

"You wanted something, darling?" The purple-haired woman hissed like a snake.

"I'm looking for Finnick." Katniss said hesitantly.

"Oh, _Finnick_." The woman repeated carefully, her eyes shone with something peculiar, something like possessive jealousy or extreme wariness but Katniss was too tired to think much of it.

"Yeah, is he there? I need to talk to him." She asked and yawned tiredly.

Because the woman took such an awful long time to answer, Katniss stood on her tip toes, trying to peek inside the large suite.

"Oh, I'm afraid you're going to have to wait for tomorrow, darling. Finnick is too tired to see anyone right now." The woman cooed with a stiff smile.

But the moment she finished her sentence, Katniss noticed a tired and shirtless Finnick coming their way.

"Let her in, Velia." He ordered with a beaming smile.

Reluctantly, the woman stepped aside. Katniss walked in nonchalantly, ignoring the woman and focusing on Finnick as he came to meet her. Without much thinking, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a hug. She wasn't thinking of the nineteen year old Finnick as she pressed her body against his, she was thinking of the fourteen year-old boy, the scared little being who had had to regretfully kill to survive, the poor boy who had been stripped of his innocence. Feeling sorry for what he had had to go through, she rested her cheek against his, giving him all of her warmth and tenderness. Eventually, he relaxed in the embrace and allowed himself a few seconds of respite as he smelled the aroma of strawberry shampoo in her long dark hair.

"I believe we're done for the night," He started when Katniss pulled away but his eyes looked elsewhere.

With a charming smile, he walked up to a flushed and angry woman. In an attempt to look apologetic, one of his hands pushed a purple lock of hair behind her ear. "So, I would appreciate it if you regained your own suite, darling."

"But the night's not over, the sun hasn't risen yet." She complained and glared at a deadly Katniss.

"Velia." Finnick purred threateningly. "My _job_ is done." He reminded her and pushed her out the door.

"Oh, Finnick." Katniss breathed out uncomfortably when the door slammed shut. "She's one of your clients isn't she?" She asked with a grimace.

"I had to." He said defensively.

The last thing he needed at such a late hour was someone judging him for the things he were forced to do.

"But, I don't understand, you're a victor... you get money and a house and you're famous and all... you shouldn't have to lower to such a thing, why would you?" She said sadly.

"Katniss. I told you." He said with exasperation and anger seeping through his voice. "I _had_ to."

"Well what is it then? What's so... threatening or life-changing for you to accept such filth?" She asked louder than planned.

She knew she was angry and upset but her anger wasn't directed toward Finnick, if anything, she dreamt of shredding the purple-haired woman to pieces.

"Katniss, this is not the place." He warned, feeling his blood boil through his veins, because he was so exhausted he wasn't sure he had any self-control left for the night and God knew what he were capable of once he was enraged.

"Let's go to your bedroom then!" She cried out and lifted her arms up in exasperation.

Only then did Finnick realize her attire which consisted of tight black leggings, a navy blue tank top and a leather jacket. He knew that except for the jacket, those were Katniss's pajamas and she must have had a nightmare. He guessed that she was now coming to him because she must have seen another one of his memories and she wanted them to discuss it but he hadn't slept at all and desperately needed to rest. On top of that, Katniss seemed to be just as tired and edgy and the more she'd speak, the more he felt like shoving her hard against the wall and silencing her.

"Finnick Odair, are you staring at my body?" She exclaimed with a scoff.

With a light chuckle he simply turned on his hills and walked in the direction of his room. She followed him suit and sat down on his messy bed. The truth, he realized, was that yes, maybe he had been staring at her body. But then it was not something perverted or a question of lust because he had wished to push her against the wall violently so as to _silence_ her. Surely, his anger was playing tricks on him.

"Eh – you had better sit on the couch, Katniss." He said with a chuckle.

With a start, she remembered that a client had just left the room and that the bed she was sitting on must have been the spot where they...

"Ugh, good lord, I think I'm going to be sick again." She complained and plopped down in the leather couch facing the bed.

Finnick walked lazily to his bed and collapsed on it.

"Why _again_?" he asked with a smirk and rested his head in his hand.

"I threw up in the elevator." She mumbled.

He laughed at her disgusted face and sat up straight.

"That's great, you just about claimed the elevator as your own territory." He said mockingly.

How he managed to go from angry and upset to flirty and casual was a mystery even to him, but the face that Katniss pulled seemed to be worth the lame joke and he was glad to have her in his room instead of Velia.

"Oh, ha-ha-ha." Katniss faked a laugh. "Hilarious." She deadpanned.

"But seriously." She resumed. "Why, Finnick?" She enquired.

He had to inhale deeply to say what he had to say. And like every time he had to explain the truth about his filthy behavior, his imposed job and the Capitol's interest, he felt weak and powerless, as if he was a fourteen year-old boy all over again. His hands started to sweat and his eyes stung as he held back the tears which he would never allow to show. Distraught, he ran a hand in his hair in a desperate attempt to calm his breathing or the pounding in his heart but it didn't work and he crumbled. Like a shield from Katniss's dark and discerning eyes, his hands rose up to his face, covering it as his shoulders slumped and his body twisted into a little fragile ball.

"Finnick." Katniss whispered sympathetically and tore away from the couch.

Silently, she kneeled down in front of him and rested her hands on his knees.

"I know now that you couldn't have chosen to live that way." She felt complained to explain. "The more I saw of you and the more obvious it was. I'm not trying to make you feel bad about doing the things you _have_ to do. I just want to understand why." She cooed reassuringly.

"I'm so sorry Finnick, I just would like to help and if I understand, then maybe I _can_ help." She whispered and rested her forehead against his bronze hair. Slowly and carefully, she pulled his hands away from his face.

"I won't tell anyone, I promise." She felt the need to say when she saw his watery green eyes.

"You promise?" He repeated like a child searching for warmth.

"Yes. I promise." She asserted her words with a genuine lop-sided smile.

"It all started on the eve of my victory tour. I had just turned fourteen the day before the games and when I came back I felt so much older, and so much uglier..." He started with a feeble sigh.

"But the Capitol and all the women who screamed my name" He continued with a tremor in his voice. "_They_ all thought I was prettier."

* * *

**I know, I haven't updated in a while, but hey life is hard and I needed time to get you something nice. Anyways, please oh lovely readers, pleaaaase, leave a review to let me know what you think. I mean, when I post chapters and an no one leaves any message, I feel like I have no landmarks for what I'll do next.**

**And please feel free to let me know about what you would like to see happening in the next chapters, I mean, I might just try to put in something you want ;)**

**Thanks for reading anyways ^^ Until next time :)**


End file.
